


Kept

by Mistysworld



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Magic Revealed, Muteness, On Hiatus, Rape/Non-con Elements, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-11-30 08:27:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11459799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistysworld/pseuds/Mistysworld
Summary: Merlin is rescued after years of facing abuse from cruel slavers. A changed man, he no longer trusts his friends, and his self of person is gone. He no longer knows who he is, what to do with himself, and he withdraws into himself, unable to face the world around him, unable to face himself.





	1. This Was His Life Now

**Author's Note:**

> So this came from nowhere. It's not particularly pleasant. Sorry for any typos, issues in the work.  
> Warning for rape and non-con.  
> This just came from nowhere, it's rather depressing, and disjointed.  
> But the idea is for it to be disjointed at first, as Merlin is meant to be purposefully unaware of his life now. As he comes back to himself it gets more... coherent I suppose. Except in times of anguish on the Characters' parts.

He allowed the man to continue with his fun. Well, it wasn't a matter of allowing him, or disallowing him. He simply existed while the man had his fun. That's all he ever did now. He only existed. He did not think, he did not move not feel. God forbid he feel. God forbid he allow himself to feel or think about his predicament.

What predicament was that again?

He didn't let himself think too much about it. He knew there was a time when he would have, would have allowed himself to dwell on this situation he was in, dwell on this routine he faced daily. But now... well, now was not that time. That was then, this was now. Times changed, he knew. Once his life had been so different. But that was no longer his life. That life had been so long ago, it was silly to dwell on it now. That life was never going back.

He heard the man grunting behind him, rutting into him, gripping his hips with his meaty fingers.  
He didn't react. He existed as it happened. He felt the man finish inside of him, he felt the man pull his now flaccid member out and heard the drawing of laces and the rustlings of someone dressing themselves.

The man slapped him forcefully on the shoulder and chuckled. "Thanks for that, love."  
And the man was gone.

He swayed for a moment, arms twisted uncomfortably above his head, legs locked into place, spread wide, as sticky fluid leaked down the inside of his thighs. He heard the running of water.  
Bath time.

Several moments later, cold water splashed over him, someone was in the cell with him. Again.  
He did not look at this new person. It was likely the same person as the day before, and the day before that. The person who cleaned him.  
The Cleaner.

He knew of the Cleaner, the Feeder, and of course, the Guests. The Men who came to see him. To have fun with him.  
He simply existed as it happened.

The Cleaner did as Cleaners do, cleaned his body, between his legs, the now sore and swollen hole. The Cleaner wiped the man's sweat of his body, the scent of his last Guest. The Cleaner did as he always did, wiping away the dirt, preparing him for the next Guest. Not before he copped his on feel, not before the he grabbed his cock and squeezed hard, whispering into his ear "I will have you whenever I want to."

The Cleaner finished his cleaning, as he stared up at his chained hands nonchalantly. Almost bored. This routine. Day in, day out. It was his life.

He knew no different.

The next Guest came in as the Cleaner left. The Guest eyed him in pleasure, admiring the water dripping down his naked form, dripping from the dark, long hair that shrouded his face. The Guest began his turn.

He took no notice of the Guest, he simply existed.

The Feeder finished feeding him, and he undid his chains, letting his fall gracelessly to the floor. The Feeder shrugged and left, knowing he would stand in his own time, make his way to his bed in his own time.

Which is what he did of course. Without fail.

He remembered a time, when he didn't. When he refused to move from that spot on the floor, refused to move to the bed at night, refused to eat, to drink, to sleep. But that was not now. So, of course, he did not dwell on it too much. During his waking hours, he could not dwell on those first few weeks, that first year. Why dwell on it? There was no changing things. That was then. This was now.

He pulled himself gently into the hay mattress in the corner, the mattress the Guests never wanted to use. Why would they, when their plaything was all ready and posed for them? He turned his head away from he chains, and gently touched the collar around his neck. He sighed angrily to himself, for allowing the feelings to rise in his chest. They were weak though, nothing like they used to be.

He supposed he should be thankful for that.

He closed his eyes, allowing sleep to wash over him. Maybe this time he wouldn't wake up.

 

* * *

 

 

> The dreams came again, uninvited, unbidden. They entered his mind like a snake, filling his heart with lies of love and safety, of a world that never existed, could never exist.
> 
> "Come on then, what do you think you're playing at?"
> 
> He looked at the man in front of him. An Angel? Gold and blue and red glowed out of this man.
> 
> Yes. An Angel. The Angel had come again.
> 
> He blinked and smiled at his Angel.
> 
> No. Not an Angel. He was mistaken. He frowned. Who was this?
> 
> "I'm just doing..." He looked at his hands. He was on his knees, in front of a hearth. "lighting the fire."
> 
> No, it wasn't an Angel. It was his King.
> 
> He smiled again. His king was here.
> 
> "Doing lighting the fire? What kind of nonsense is that?"
> 
> The King of Gold and Blue and Red chortled and he smiled weakly at him.
> 
> "I made a mistake. I'm sorry, I'm lighting your fire. Winter has come, it is cold, as you know."
> 
> The King laughed warmly again, and ruffled his hair. "Of course I know, you dollop head. I basically control the weather."
> 
> He frowned. That wasn't normal was it. His King glowed expectantly at him, a wide smile on his face. "You control the weather?"
> 
> The King laughed louder. A Laugh full of love and warmth and affection. "I am King. I control everything."
> 
> It did not make sense. But who was he to question this King of Gold and Blue and Red and _Love_
> 
> The king who loved him, his friend. The King, his dear friend. He had never felt love like this, he knew. He knew this is where he belonged. In this room, with his King. There were others too. Other friends. He could feel the love he held for them filling his heart, ready to burst, he could feel the love they felt for him, wrapping him in a warm embrace. A beautiful woman, the Queen swam before his eyes, and she smiled, a smile filled with affection and his heart tugged a little. He had once loved her, he knew. A long time ago. Before she became Queen. Before she became destined for the King of Love.
> 
> He felt the love filling this room. The large, unending room with no walls, no ceiling. He frowned again and shook his head in confusion. What had happened to the room he and the King were just in?
> 
> The King glared at him suddenly. Anger evident on him. The King no longer glowed with love and kindness. The warmth of the Blue and the Red and the Gold turned violent, hot anger and cold ice, ready to twist and turn him into a mangled mess of pain and misery. The King's eyes glowed with hatred. With the desire to murder, to kill, to burn. He backed away from his King, his.. .friend? No, this was his enemy
> 
> "I trusted you!" his King roared. Red and Blue and Gold danced before his eyes, lashing out and twisting into his heart.
> 
> "You were my friend and I trusted you!"
> 
> He shook in surprise and fear. "I... I don't know what I did, I don't understand. What... What?"
> 
> The King glowered, infuriated further. "You idiot, you imbecile, you traitor! Your plan, tell me what your plan was!"
> 
> The hatred was rolling off his King in waves, threatening to drown him. The sky was thundering down around him, crashing in his ears and as the floor fell away beneath his feet.
> 
> "What's wrong, what did I do?"
> 
> The fear was over powering now, gagging him. His voice sounding strange to his ears, his tongue heavy in his mouth.
> 
> "I'll have you killed, I'll destroy you myself, what was your plan, to kill me? TO have me name you my successor? You lied!"
> 
> He suddenly knew his King was angry at him for a valid reason. A true reason, a reason he deserved. It danced on the tip of his tongue, out of reach, the sin he committed. The sin to cause the anger crashing down on him.
> 
> He deserved this anger.
> 
> He had to explain though. He needed to explain to the King, the King who had moments ago been a King of Love. He needed to explain to the King of Hatred, of Anger that he hadn't. He hadn't betrayed him. He opened his mouth to explain. He had the words forming in his mind, ready to pour from his mouth, seeking redemption, seeking understanding. So he opened his mouth.
> 
> "Art-" and suddenly blood was pouring from his mouth, dribbling down his chin and he was choking on in, gasping for air and he wildly wiped it away in desperation.
> 
> What was happening? He gasped and tried to speak, to move his tongue. But his tongue was gone and he shuddered in horror. It was gone, he couldn't speak. Blood poured from the wound in his mouth, beginning to clot, heavy and hard. He was choking on the blood, unable to breathe. He reached out an arm in horror towards his King. Desperate for his help, for his love, for his acceptance.
> 
> If only the King could understand.
> 
> He needed the King's help.
> 
> "Why won't you answer me?"
> 
> He couldn't answer his King. Why could his King not see that, how desperate he was to answer him, to explain everything. He grasped wildly t the air, blood clogging his throat, he reached out helplessly. _Please, please, please help me._
> 
> "I can't... Get out of my sight. If I see you again, I will kill you, trust me, the next time you see me, I will put a sword through you, and you will die."
> 
> He shuddered at the words of hatred spoken by his King. They were true. They rang through his mind and he fell to his knees, clutching at his throat, the blood filling his body, his mind, his soul. The King of Gold and Blue and Red disappeared, walking away. Disappearing into the darkness.

* * *

 

 

He awoke with a start, gasping for air, and clutching the metal collar on his neck, willing down the anxiety and the fear and the pain.

A nightmare. Another nightmare. The same one again, always. The King.

He closed his eyes and let is mind go blank. No anger. No hatred. No love. No King.

No Gold.

No Red.

No Blue.

None of this existed.

The King and that world.

It didn't exist. He pushed it down, he pushed it away.

This was his world. The Guests would soon arrive, and his world would begin again.

This was the way it was. This was his world.

* * *

 

 

So his day began again.

The same routine. The Feeder.

The Guest.

The Cleaner.

The Guest.

The Cleaner. The Cleaner had some fun this time. The Cleaner took longer than usual. Determined to get a response out of him. He gave into the Cleaners demands. It was easier to, instead of allowing the Cleaner to hut him. He keened the way the Cleaner liked him to. He moved his body in the endearing manner demanded by the Cleaner. Staying still and letting it happen wouldn't suffice this time. He thrust his hips and gasped the way the Cleaner loved, and he willed himself to grow hard, he willed it to happen. This display would mean nothing, _nothing_ , if the Cleaner did not buy it, and if he did not grow hard, the Cleaner never would.

It didn't matter suddenly. The Cleaner grabbed his cock, and thrust into him, rubbing it hard.

In response to the stimulation, it grew larger, it grew harder and his face burned with humiliation, with anger, and self hatred, but he pushed it down.

This was his existence. So he existed, he let it happen.

Better let it happen than face the torture again.

 

* * *

 

The Cleaner left, after cleaning him far too thoroughly, and now, after food, it was once again time for bed.

* * *

He woke from the dream again, gasping and angry with himself.

Two nights in a row.

If he didn't get a hold on this, he knew the depression would come back. Already it was creeping in on his visage, the despair and the anger coming back, the dormant power inside him, roiling against the collar on his neck. He shuddered and tried to quell it.

It had been so long.

Why was it all happening again?

He pushed the feelings away. Ready to face the day again.

So he did.

* * *

 

 

He woke again, dread in the pit of his stomach. The dream had come again. Again. Again. How many times was that now? Too many. He had lost count. Every night for countless night. He felt too much fear, he felt too much pain. The dormant power trying to rebel, trying to break free, but he couldn't let it. He tried in vain to push it down, he tried so hard, push away to pain, push away the fear, push away that power trying to break free.

But he couldn't. He knew today, he simply couldn't _just_ exist. His soul was breaking, demanding the pain be felt again. Demanding to exist, demanding to be noticed.

Demanding he face his predicament.

He willed it down but he couldn't and sudden;y he was gasping and tears streaked down his face and he couldn't draw breath. The power, filled with anger and denial and _hatred_ roiled deep in his stomach, up into his chest, fighting and the bond on his neck and pain shot through his body and he couldn't quell the magic as it fought desperately to break the curse on him, it fought desperately to free him from the chains and the suppression but of course it couldn't. The collar soaked in the power fueled by fear and desperation and turned it back against the body wielding it and he roared in desperation and and agony as it ripped though his bones, through his skin, through his mind and his heart and his soul. Tearing his body to pieces. He bucked in the straw mattress, grappling at the collar, trying to pry it free, but of course it would not come free. Wave after wave, his magic attacked the collar, wave after wave his magic was turned back against him, ripping through him, leaving his in shreds.

He heard his inhuman cries, the shrieks and the gasps.

He heard the pounding feet as his captors ran in and heard their surprise. It had been years since this had happened.

Years since his magic fought this system he was forced into.

He gave one last weak whimper and his magic deflated and  gave up its onslaught, and he curled into himself on the mattress, haggard breaths ripping through him, shaking.

The guards laughed.

It wasn't long before he was back where he belonged, in his chains, ready for the Guests.

It was harder now. Harder to remain impassive and let it happen when the emotions had broken free and all he knew this wasn't right, he didn't want to be here. He fought again, like he had when he first arrived, he cried as he couldn't break free.

He heard the laughter and felt the smacks and the punches and the whips as he disobeyed and was punished.

He heard each grunt and uttering of "You filthy little slut."

He fought as much as he could. But he couldn't keep them off him.

They seemed to enjoy it more. The more he fought, the harder then came.

* * *

It continued like this.

He couldn't cap his emotions again, he couldn't bottle them away. He couldn't fight them off.

Each morning his magic rebelled against his collar, surging through his body, leaving him breathless and begging for death to take him.

It never did.

Each night he dreamed of his King casting him out, denouncing him, promising to kill him.

He wished his King already had killed him.

* * *

He was prepared for the next Guest. 

He kept his head down and his eyes tightly screwed shut as he was cleaned. He was cleaned much more thoroughly than usual, more salve than usual placed in his hole. He shuddered. An important guest then. They were usually the roughest.

He had been too aware of this for too long now. Months now.

He missed the time when life just passed him by and he just existed.

Now he felt every little thing, every fear, pain and anguish.

He hated it.

They finished prepping him for the Guest. And the cell door opened. He kept his head bowed and his eyes shut, trying to tone out the voices.

"This is your final piece?" a voice asked, a familiar accent, lacing the words.

"It is, I'm sorry the rest were not to your liking. How is this piece?"

He felt the Guests hands over him, he felt them grip his arms and stroke his back and he tried not to react, but he could not help shudder in shame and disgust. "He'll do. What's the collar for?"

"Ahh, see, this is why I thought you'd love this piece. He has magic, you see. It suppresses it, turns it against him and leaves him in agony. It is really quite wonderful to watch I might say, though it doesn't happen too oft now, only when he gets particularly upset and loses control."

There was a pregnant pause. "I see."

Another pause.

"Let me handle the payment options first though, I want to be able to relax."

The guard chuckled and he shuddered again, the greasy, slimy laugh that permeated his soul.

"No worries, my good man."

It was silent for a while as they both left to deal with the payment.

Some time passed.

Longer than what should have.

Longer than a payment should take.

He looked up in alarm.

What was happening? He glanced around the cell, anxious. Was he just going to hang here? Was he not being used today?

Then he heard running footsteps, shouting and he looked at the door in terror.

A figure appeared.

And blue eyes met his. Blue eyes he knew too well, blue eyes that looked into his own with confusion. He saw the realisation dawn in them as the man stepped towards and he drew back as much as he could, terror ripping through his body.

He shut his eyes, shook his head, pulled against the chains in the ceiling, drawing his arms above his head, pulled against the chains on the floor, leaving his posterior arched, begging to be taken. Not this. Anyone but him. Anyone but this. 

The footsteps approached him, hurried. He could hear the man's breath, breathing on his neck as he fumbled with his hands.

Was he just going to take him? Like this? No talking or touching? That was unusual in itself. But he supposed this Man would want it to be quick, over with. Then, he realised, he could die.

His King had come to kill him.

But he still fought it. No. He wouldn't let his King take him like this, not after everything. His last dignity gone, stripped from him, he couldn't allow it. He fought and pushed as best as he could. but the king's grip was stronger. Suddenly his chains were loosened and he fell to the floor with a soft oomph. His posterior stood even taller, and he pulled in on himself begging it not to happen. An arm touched his shoulder and he flinched away violently, whinnying in alarm. The arm drew back and he felt the fumbling at his feet, and the click of a lock and they were released too. 

He stumbled away.

Get away from the King, get away from the King, get away from the King.

He backed into the corner and kept his head lowered, his eyes averted.

Maybe he would leave. Maybe the king would leave and not touch him and leave him be.

Leave him to his life here.

That was something that could never happen.

"Merlin?"

 

 


	2. Rescued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is rescued from his slavers, but still isn't free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was like dragging teeth. It did not want to be written, and I just couldn't put into words what I wanted to get across, how I wanted this to feel. I'm not too happy with it, but there's only so many times I can rewrite it and go through it. I hope you enjoy it!

   "Merlin?"

   The voice was soft. Familiar and it matched the eyes. His King stood in the room and he bowed his head, letting his long hair hide his face, refusing to show himself to the King. The footsteps approached him. If he doesn't react, maybe the King will leave him be. Maybe the King will go and he will only hate him in his dreams.

   "Merlin?" the voice was anxious, demanding and fearful, all at once. Afraid to learn the truth.

   He flinched at the sound of his name, spoken so... spoken so hesitantly. It had been years since he heard it last, years since a soul spoke to him, referred to him. The King never even said his name in his dreams.

   "Please... Merlin?" It was desperate now. "Is it you Merlin, answer me!"

   Merlin turns his head and shakes it fiercely. Hoping the King will read it as _No. Don't do this._

   "It's me, it's Arthur."

   Merlin looked at Arthur then. He met his eyes and he shook his head again. _No,_ he tried to convey. _Please leave me alone._

   Would Arthur understand this? But Merlin knew, looking into Arthur's eyes, there was now going back. Arthur knew who he was. Arthur had come here to rent a man. He had come here to use a man's body. Merlin's body was always being used. Why couldn't Arthur just do what he came to do?

   Merlin turned around and bent over, reminding Arthur what he was here for. _Finish it then._

   There was a strangled "No!" and Merlin looked back confused. Why wasn't he starting? The memories were coming back to fast now, Arthur his friend, Arthur his King, Arthur the man who called him brave, "the bravest man he knew", Arthur the King who banished him and threatened to kill him. He didn't want to think. He didn't want to feel. He wanted it to be over, to be done, he wanted the King to do what he came to do and take Merlin. He didn't want _his_ King to do this to him, tear away whatever remaining shred of dignity he held. But Arthur was no longer _his_ King. He had made sure of that years ago. And well, he had no shred of dignity left, and Arthur had clearly come here for one thing. He had to have.

   Arthur strode towards him and grabbed him by the shoulders, turning him to face him. Merlin shrank in on himself, fear roiling through him. Arthur's eyes blazed with emotion Merlin could not identify and his breath was beginning to come out in gasps. Hyperventilating. Arthur looked terrified and confused, he's eyes showed an inner turmoil he struggled to hide.

   It was only a matter of time before Merlin's magic began to react again. Hyperventilating, panic rearing it's head, Merlin wouldn't be able to control it.

   He tried desperately to calm himself but of course he couldn't. Not when Arthur stood beside him, after all these years, looking him in the eye, looking at him and Merlin could remember the things Arthur had said to him so long ago, the anger Arthur had felt, the _fear_ Merlin had felt.

   "Speak to me Merlin, why won't you answer me!"

   Arthur grabbed Merlin's face between his hands and shook him hard.

   Merlin opened his mouth in a little "Oomph" of surprise and terror. Arthur dropped Merlin in horror as he saw why Merlin wouldn't answer him.

   It appeared that Merlin had lost his tongue.

* * *

Merlin lay curled on the ground as he felt Arthur's presence in the room. Arthur had not said another word and Merlin just lay, allowing tears to flow as he buried his head into his knees. Why hadn't Arthur killed him yet? How long had they been just existing here, in the cell? Why wouldn't he kill him? Why couldn't he get around to it? He looked at Arthur, Arthur was decidedly not looking at him. He saw the sword. Excalibur. Lying on the ground. One cut. That's all it would take. Even a small wound. The magic of the sword... It had to work. Merlin tentatively reached out for it. One small wound, that's all it would take. It would kill him.

   Arthur started and gripped the sword, pointed it at Merlin's neck. He almost seemed ready to push it through. The terror was evident in his eyes. Clearly years of separation couldn't dampen Merlin's betrayal. 

   "What are you playing at?" he hissed, his anger and fear was evident and Merlin could have laughed. Merlin was powerless, helpless. How would he hurt the King in his malnourished, magic-less state? Did Arthur really think this feeble man could cause him, one of the most powerful warriors in the land, any harm?

    _End it now. Kill me. Please_. Could he convey this with his mind? Hardly. Arthur had never been particularly intuitive when it came to the desires of others. He pushed his neck forward a bit, almost daring Arthur to go through with it. Pressing it against the tip of Excalibur. But the moment he did, Arthur finally realised Merlin's intention, and whipped the sword away, cleanly, precisely, not even drawing a speck of blood, not even breaking the skin. He was too well trained, too precise.

   "I won't kill you." Arhur's voice was almost indistinguishable. It was so soft and quiet. He looked at Merlin, deep into his eyes, as if searching his soul, and Merlin recoiled slightly from the intensity of it. It was been years since someone had looked at him in that way. Years since anyone had looked at him in any way except as if admiring a piece of meat. All leers and sneers. Arthur's gaze was different. Full of concern, perhaps? Merlin didn't know and didn't want to know. He wanted this to end. And Arthur had promised to end it, Why wasn't he ending it?

   "I... I won't kill you." Arthur repeated, almost as if he was trying to convince himself. He looked at Merlin again, Merlin dipped his head, breaking eye contact, not able to hold it with him. He crouched into himself, trying to avoid Arthur's stares. Trying to tune him out. Why was here? If he wasn't here to... use a man, why had he come? If his plans had changed upon seeing Merlin, why not just kill him, like he promised he would?

   Because Arthur had promised. Arthur had promised to kill him and now he was going back on that promise. He had released Merlin from his bounds and ties, something no one else had ever done before. Why not use him, or why not kill him? Why stand there and look at him as if he didn't know what to do. 

   Merlin sat on the ground, drawing his knees up to his chest, and Arthur looked at him. And suddenly Merlin could identify the emotion playing across Arthur's face. He knew it. He recognised it. It was _pity._ He almost growled in frustration. Arthur _pitied_ him.

   Arthur crouched to his level, reached out and gruffly grabbed Merlin's shoulder. Merlin flinched back, getting away from the grasp. There was a slight pause and Arthur assessed the situation, nodded, then stated "Okay, the other..." he paused and looked at Merlin with those damn pitying eyes again, and Merlin wanted to claw them out and scream and kick but he didn't. He wouldn't react to this man's pity. "The other... _slaves_ -" he spit it out like a dirty word, "The other men kept here, along with you... well. I've released them from their bonds and chains. The guards are dead. I killed them. So did the other Knights, who..."Arthur paused again, concerned. "They'll be looking for me and the final... slave." Arthur seemed to face difficulty whenever it came to the word "slave" and Merlin found himself growing angry. Why was it so hard to acknowledge what he was? He was a slave. He was a _sex_ slave. "They'll be looking for us. I can't say I was expecting to find you here, but... well. Here you are."

   Merlin didn't respond, just glared at the floor. This was ridiculous. So Arthur hadn't come to use a slave?

   Arthur stood up and held out a hand to Merlin. "Come on then. We'll be leaving. The Knights will have already gathered the five other men outside."

   Merlin stayed steadfast on the ground. He would not go with Arthur, he was happy to stay here. If Arthur was telling the truth, and everyone was dead... well that meant no more forced feedings, no more water, no more _Guests_. Death would come quickly and easy.

   He heard footsteps outside and Arthur glanced anxiously at Merlin, muttered "Don't _say_ anything," then flinched as soon as the words left his mouth, realising what he said. "It's Gwaine, I'll deal with him."

   Merlin looked surprised. Gwaine? Gwaine was still a Knight of Camelot?

   And sure as rain, Gwaine came in to the cell, glanced at the naked, hunched form of Merlin, his eyes skimming over him quickly, not recognising him, turned to Arthur. "What's the story, mate, are we not heading out yet?"

   "This... one is being a little contrary, doesn't want to come. Seems he'd prefer to die here alone in the cells."

   Arthur's voice was spiteful and angry, he was not very good at hiding his emotions.

   "Bit harsh, Arthur," Gwaine muttered, trying to shush the man. "These guys have been through hell, try to be understanding."

   Arthur chortled darkly. "He might not be worth our time, we might as well go and leave him."

   Merlin was rather happy with this idea.

   But Gwaine, being Gwaine, sweet, caring Gwaine, wouldn't have any of that. "No man left behind!" he said and crouched down to Merlin's level, tentatively reached out. Merlin didn't withdraw but kept his head bowed, refusing to meet his eyes. "Hey, friend, come on. We're here to help you. Come with us, please. We'll bring you to Camelot, get you the help you need to go home, to your friends, your family."

   Merlin just shook his head. He didn't want to have to deal with this right now. He had left Camelot behind. He didn't want to go back.

   "Please, friend, just tell us your name, we can help you."

   Merlin glanced up quickly, glaring at Arthur.

   "I should tell you, the man can't speak. He's dumb. Had his tongue cut out of him."

   Merlin flinched at the bluntness of it, the coldness. So callous. Gwaine seemed a little put out as well.

   "You could have told me sooner. None of the others had mutilations like that... why this one?"

   Arthur laughed coldly. "I suppose he just didn't know when to shut the fuck up." And Merlin flinched as the words hit him like a punch and he choked a little, choked down a sob and Arthur suddenly seemed to remember himself, he looked at Merlin again and his eyes softened and he looked almost tragically sad, as if _he_ had been the one forced to endure years of suffering. Gwaine seemed mortified to be in Arthur's presence.

   "This seems personal, Arthur. I don't know why you're so angry with this man, but I will help him." He reached out to Merlin again and this time managed to meet his eyes. He jumped back in surprise and dropped Merlin's hand.

   "I'm leaving." Arthur declared. "Bring the slave if you can convince him."

   "Wait, Arthur!" Gwaine called out but Arthur was gone.

   Gwaine knelt back beside Merlin and looked him deep in the eye. "Who are you?" He demanded. "I... I swear. I know you. Did... did you have a brother, in Camelot? Years ago, a brother."

   Merlin shook his head, pleading. Gwaine knew what had happened. He had to. Arthur would have gloated to everyone how he rid Camelot of the Sorcerer.　Maybe he would finally realise who he was? Was that what he wanted? For Gwaine to know who he was?

   Did he really want to die here alone? Would Arthur leave him here to die? Would Arthur kill him on their return to Camelot?

   What was Arthur's plan?

   "Will you come with us, friend?" Gwaine asked again. His eyes spoke of words unsaid. Confusion and pain was writ cross his face. Merlin couldn't tell what this meant.

   Merlin nodded.

   He would go with them. Back to Camelot.

   He would face what Arthur had in store for him. Whatever it was, it had to be better than the life he had here.

* * *

   The other slaves seemed to have fared better than Merlin during there time there. Merlin noticed this immediately. He hadn't realised until then there had been other slaves, along side him. He had stupidly believed he was the only one. They were not as skinny and malnourished than he was, they murmured among themselves. They clearly hadn't faced the punishments Merlin had. He felt angry about this. He had been practically starved, only given enough just to survive. He had been rid of his tongue, treated cruelly. He noticed he was also the only magic user. The others wore no collars. Only the red cloaks of the Knights of Camelot, wrapped around their shoulders. A cloak was thrown over him and he wrapped it tight around him, flinching slightly at the feeling of being covered, being clothed. 

   It had been years since he had been clothed. Even if this was only a cloak thrown over him.

   He watched warily as Arthur spoke to each slave gently, seeming to reassure them of their safety and freedom, but he determinedly ignored Merlin, purposely did not make eye contact with him. Merlin wasn't surprised though. He had caused Arthur some trouble. 

   Gwaine kept glancing back at Merlin though, confused, unsure.

   The horses were laden with supplies, the slaves herded into the back of a cart, latched onto a horse, the Knights mounted there horses, made sure the slaves were secure, and they began their journey. It was slow and arduous, carrying all the people and supplies, medical supplies from what Merlin could see. He couldn't see a Healer among the knights, however, Gwaine and Arthur were the only two he recognised. He probably didn't know any of the knights, or healers that might be there.

   They travelled slowly, and it wasn't long before night had fallen. They decided to set up camp for the night. The other slaves had quietly chatted among themselves, becoming somewhat acquainted. They initially had tried to include Merlin, speaking about their future, and how excited they were.

   It was clear they were not okay.

   How could anyone be okay?

   But they tried for now. So happy to be free at last.

   When Merlin didn't reply, didn't respond they tried to nudge him into an interaction. When he opened his mouth to reveal his muteness, they quickly turned away, not wanted to deal with it.

   Not wanting to deal with what had happened to him, when nothing like that had happened to them.

   So Merlin left them to it. He had watched as Arthur and Gwaine ride on ahead, in front of everyone. He had watched how Gwaine kept nervously looking to Arthur, trying to figure something out.

   Merlin wondered what was going to happen now.

   The camp was set up, food was cooked, and everyone was fed. A loaf of bread passed around, each slave given a section, some dried meats and a little bit of stale cheese. It wasn't the best meal in the world, but it was a hell of a lot more than they had all eaten in a long time. The other slaves wolfed the food down, while Merlin struggled to eat so much. The Feeder had always shoved the gruel down his throat, there was never any need for chewing, or maneuvering the food in his mouth. This time however, with the bread and the cheese and the meats, he had difficult trying to chew, trying to swallow. A few times he felt like he would choke, before he threw down the food in disgust, losing his patience completely. Another slave looked at it opportunistically and Merlin shoved it at him in frustration.

   "Thanks, Mate," he muttered, through a mouthful of food. "Name's Greg."

   Merlin nodded curtly and looked away, not bothering to interact any further. Greg shrugged, happy to have some more food than the others. He turned back to watching the knights. The slaves had been left to their own devices, and they were bonding, learning about each other's lives before there enslavement, and what they planned to do now. There was a weird energy among them, as if they were trying to avoid thinking about what had happened to them, and if pretending to be happy would mean nothing had happened. Merlin realised this was probably the case.

   Soon, everyone was settling down to sleep, preparing to rest, before the rest of the journey the following day.

   Merlin was shown a spot by the other slaves, near the fire. They paid no heed to how little he had eaten, how he interacted with none of the others. Arthur clearly didn't care. Soon, everyone was asleep. Except for Merlin, Arthur and Gwaine. He watched as Gwaine approached Arthur. He narrowed his eyes and shifted a little closer, wondering if he would be able to hear their conversation. He didn't want to draw too much attention to himself. He was lucky

   "I need to ask you something."

   Arthur sighed. "What, Gwaine?"

   "I need to ask you about Merlin."

   Arthur stiffened. "What about him?"

   "About the day he died."

   Merlin froze, keeping his eyes closed, trying not to garner any attention. Arthur glowered.

   "Gwaine... That was years ago. I... I don't want to get into it.

   The day he died? What did Gwaine mean. Arthur had banished him, threatened him. Why did Gwaine think he was dead?

   "Arthur, you said Merlin was killed, in battle. That you were attacked, he was stabbed... what did you say happened next?"

   "Gwaine, why bring this up now, why say this? He died, that's it."

   "What happened next, Arthur?" It was barely a question.

   "He fell. He fell off the edge of the cliff, into the water below. His body washed away."

   "I don't believe you."

   Merlin could feel the eyes glowering on him and he flinched internally. Arthur was furious. Merlin could feel the anger radiating off him.

   "Why don't you believe me, Sir Gwaine?" Arthur's voice was low, threatening.

   "Arthur. Did he die that day. Are you one hundred percent sure? What if he survived?" Gwaine's voice shook. "One of the slaves... the blue eyed one with the black hair. He looks just like him. Are we sure its not him...? What if it is Merlin? What if he survived the fall, the wound? He had a scar on his side."

   Merlin's hand instinctively gripped his side, the scar he had not thought of in years. The one Arthur left him. He didn't like to think about the day Arthur had discovered his magic. He didn't like to think of the wound Arthur left him, and the deathly promise left in his soul.

   "Gwaine, I am not discussing this here and now."

   "We need to discuss it here and now. He was our friend."

   Arthur snapped. "He was a traitor, Gwaine. He was a sorcerer! You think he was our friend? He was just a servant. A terrible servant who used his magic to bewitch us and ensnare us. Make us believe he was a friend."

   "You... you're wrong."

   "No Gwaine. I should have killed him. I should have taken the life from him. A sorcerer right under my nose? Gods only know what he was planning. I was a fool, I let him free. He should have died but I let him go. I regret it everyday."

   Gwaine was quiet and Merlin bowed his head. The words didn't even hurt. Why would they hurt him? Arthur hated him and with good reason.

   "So... Merlin's alive?"

   Arthur didn't answer.

   "Arthur, it has been _five_ years. _Five._ We have spent the last five years mourning our friend. Now you tell me he's alive, you knew all this time? You're telling me you _should_ have _killed_ him? You're friend?"

   "A sorcerer."

   "I... I..." Gwaine took a deep breath. "So that slave can't be him... can he? Merlin was never injured then."

   Arthur chuckled darkly. "I'm not getting into this now, Gwaine. We don't want to wake the slaves, do we?"

   "Arthur. I swear, I will resign and hang my cape now, if you don't tell me the truth." Gwaine's voice was hard and angry, full of betrayal and pain.

   "Yes. Okay, that bloody slave is Merlin, from what I can gather. He's not exactly forthcoming with the information." He chuckled darkly again. "He used to never shut up. Now at last he'll be quiet."

   Merlin felt a sting at those words. It was hard not to.

   "I injured Merlin, just a warning, letting him know to never return to Camelot. It wasn't too serious a wound. Just a slash across the waist with my dagger. Just a warning. Enough to scar him. So the scar makes sense, for that man to be him. The way he reacted when he saw me. He _knew_. He was _afraid._ Like he should have been. Damn, I don't know how the fucker ended up in their clutches. But he did. They bound his magic and all."

   "And cut out his tongue," Gwaine whispered

   "He probably deserved it, giving them cheek, you know what he was like."

   Arthur's words were so cold, and it wasn't as if Merlin expected sympathy from him. He would never have expected sympathy from Arthur. But even this callousness was surprising. Arthur was _happy_ about Merlin's conditions and circumstances.

   "Arthur... You can't be serious."

   "I am. And when we get back to Camelot he will be tried for sorcery, and executed. He broke our laws, betrayed my trust. I will not have it."

   "You let him go, and now you're taking that decision back?" Gwaine asked.

   "I made a mistake, doing that. I shouldn't have. I should have killed him."

   "You're a liar. You're afraid."

   "I am not!" Arthur almost roared.

   "You hurt your friend. You _wounded_ him and _banished_ him. And yeah, you were angry, so fucking angry that you told us all he died. I don't understand why you lied. Why did you lie?"

   "Gwaine," Arthur warned. "This is not a subject you want to broach."

   "I need to know!" Gwaine insisted. "I've spent half a decade convinced my friend was dead. And now I've realised he was banished, and has spent god knows however long in that sex dungeon. Kept there against his will. Did you not see the state of him? Half starved, terrified."

   "Gwaine, please."

   "Arthur. Are you going to kill him?"

   "It hurt so much, what he did. Betraying me. He was my best friend. But it was all lies. But... it was so much easier to pretend he was dead, that he died heroically than acknowledge he was a traitor. So that's what I did. I never thought I'd see him again. Finding him there... in those dungeons. Look Gwaine. We'll go back to Camelot. His fate will be decided then. Once a traitor, always a traitor."

   "I... I need some time to think, Sire." Gwaine left Arthur, walking to the outskirts of the camp.

   Merlin sighed to himself. He wondered if there was any point going back, if Arthur was just going to kill him anyway. He could leave the party now, go through the forest himself. He knew he wouldn't survive it, he was too weak, too ill. He had no magic, he couldn't eat properly. He wouldn't be able to hunt, survive on his own.

   But it was death, alone in the forest, or death by pyre.

   It seemed like Arthur would never forgive him.


	3. Camelot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey back to Camelot was long, and painful. A malnourished Merlin is angry and bitter, but still fearful of his King, still fearful of everything. Finally, they reach Camelot, and Merlin waits for his death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter has taken a while! I've moving back to Ireland from Japan in a week and it's been busy busy busy, trying to get everything in order! This chapter is also a little shorter because of this, sorry about that :) I'm not happy at all with this chapter, but, It's been two weeks already, and I certainly won't be able to post in the next week, so I didn't want to leave it almost a month. Once again, I hope you enjoy!

They reached Camelots boarder, or, what Merlin remembered as Camelot's boarder. He had lost track of time, on how long they had been travelling. A few weeks maybe?

   Arthur had bonded with the other slaves. Befriended them, learned their names. He barely looked at Merlin, and Merlin was fine with that. He still kept an eye out, on the best way to escape, on the journey. He desperately wanted to. Looking for outs.

   But he knew it would kill him. He had no magic, no hunting skills, he was weak with undernourishment, he would not survive a day on his own. So he decided to trudge along after them. Following the knights. Gwaine tried to stay beside him, and chat to him, reminding him who he was, their old friendship. But, if Merlin was perfectly honest with himself, he didn't want to remember. It had been ha;f a decade before, that life was long dead, long gone. They were never coming back.

   Arthur was cold. He was distant. He seemed to not even want to see Merlin. Merlin wondered when the order would come, for his execution. It was bound to come soon.

   Another part of Merlin was terrified of Arthur. Terrified he would come in the night for him, for his services. Everyone else had used him for years. He was sure Arthur would too. The other slaves did not seem too worried, but that was probably because Arthur showed them kindness, and gentleness, he was genuinely concerned for them.

   He overheard them all one day, Arthur, discussing _him_ with them.

   "Why did that one lose a tongue? What did he do?"

   The others had shrugged. They didn't even know he had existed, they hadn't known there were any others besides themselves. "No idea, he probably pissed off the wrong person."

   Arthur had laughed coolly. "Wouldn't surprise me, he's the type, I'd bet."

   The words had struck Merlin in his core. Almost, anyway. He was beginning to care less and less about Arthur, just waiting for his death, begging for it almost. He had wanted to die for so long, it had to happen soon.

  

   They reached what Merlin recognised as the boarder. He was glad. The food had been difficult, and he had actually been growing weaker than he had been while imprisoned. At least in his prison, they had fed him food that was easy for him to swallow, that just slid down his throat, and managed to just barely nourish him enough not to die. Now, he was unable to maneuver the food in his mouth, and  unable to properly swallow, he was suffering, barely able to eat. No one really noticed, and if they did, they didn't care.

   Gwaine road beside him again, chatting quietly. Nothing important until, "After... after you left. Things changed in Camelot. I think you need to know. Arthur became a powerful, strong, and wonderful king. He brought Camelot to great prosperity, over the last five years, he has helped unite all the surrounding lands, under his rule..." He paused. "Where we found you, in Mercia... that was the last kingdom of Albion to join us. He united Albion into one."

   Merlin started. Albion had been united? Arthur ruled all of Albion?

   "The people are very happy, Merlin. Arthur... He became a wonderful man. He seemed to mourn you, genuinely. We all believed you to be dead. He... he seemed so distraught. But... I don't know why he reacted how he did. I understand you have magic, and I know he reacted the way he did... Injuring you." Gwaine glanced at Merlin's side. Merlin had finally been clothed, along with the other slaves. It felt strange, to wear clothes. He found them too heavy and warm at first.

   "And I know, if I had seen or heard of this five years ago, I would have killed him then and there. But... He's become a great man since. Maybe he needs time."

   Merlin could have laughed, but he just kept his head down. Had Arthur changed at all?

* * *

 

 

The castle loomed above them, towering, white, and glittering. Taller than Merlin remembered, bigger, more dominating. He shuddered. Of course it had grown. Arthur and the knights, with the slaves trailing behind in the carts, swept into the lower town, and was met with raucous applause. People cheered their beloved king, and the knights behind him. They cheered the man who had united the whole land, and freed slaves. He was wonderful, powerful. Merlin glowered with anger. They didn't know what Arthur was capable of, they didn't know who would willingly strike down a friend, threaten him and leave him for dead.

   What happened next was a blur. The knights and the King waved to the crowds, people bowed and offered gifts. People cheered, offering babies to be kissed by their beloved ruler. People gazed at the slaves, trying to glean some information from them. Merlin and the rest of the slaves were bustled out of sight, up to the physicians chambers. Merlin felt a wave of nostalgia and deja vu, when he saw Gaius waiting for them. He bowed his head quickly, letting his hair hide his face. He hadn't even thought about Gaius, and seeing Gaius again. 

   He never thought about what would happen in Camelot, when he got back. He was so sure he would immediately be killed. But now he was in the same room as Gaius.

   Suddenly, Gwaine came bursting in. "Gaius, I need to speak to you. Now."

   "Gwaine, do you not see all these patients I have? I'm a little busy. It can wait."

   "No, Gaius, it can't. It can't wait."

   "Gwaine!" He stepped towards Merlin first, because of course he did. Of course Merlin would be the first Gaius would deal with.

   "No, Gaius, wait, please!" but Gaius wasn't listening.

   He took Merlins arm gently. "Now, young man, how can I help you?"

   Merlin tried to step back, shaking his head. If Gaius had spent the last five years believing he was dead, this was perhaps not the best time, or way to find out he was alive.

   "You're looking rather malnourished... Have the knights not been feeding you?"

   "We have been feeding him!" Gwaine called out indignantly.

   Merlin looked at him in horror, begging him to keep his mouth shut. Gaius hands dropped from him, as though he had been burned. Gaius had seen his eyes.

   "No..." he whispered.

   Merlin took a stumbling step back, trying to fight down the wave of dizziness, and the panic attack that was building.

   "I tried to warn you!" Gaius whispered fiercely. "He's alive. Arthur lied."

   "Merlin..."


	4. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is home, he can't make sense of this world, and his fear of Arthur grows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took so long to get this out! And for not replying to comments. I'm a bit shy about my writing and unsure of it, and all the comments make me so happy! But I'm too nervous to reply, because I'm so silly.  
> I've spent the last three weeks settling in back home! My journey home was atrocious as I had a flight delayed by 15 hours which delayed all my connecting flights, so by the time I actually got home I was exhausted. I've been getting back into the swing of things back in Ireland, so I've had trouble getting a chance to sit down and write!  
> I hope the way I'm writing also makes sense, I'm trying to get into Merlin's mind, which is confused and unclear, he is misunderstanding people's intentions, and currently expecting the worst from everyone!  
> I'm much happier with this chapter than my previous one, so please enjoy! Thank you for reading!

Gaius knew. He could see it in his eyes. Merlin desperately wanted to disappear, vanish into the ground, for it all to disappear. Heartfelt reunions and love weren't meant to happen now. It had been too long. He didn't want to come back to this life when it was so desperately gone, almost as if it had never happened.

   Because coming back to Camelot, and seeing Gaius, standing in front of him, the tears tricking down his face, as the realisation dawned in his aged eyes, Merlin shriveled up inside. To be reunited with Gaius like this, when his life had come to this, Arthur moments away from killing him. Because, of course, it was only a matter of time before Arthur came bursting through this door, came bursting in to announce his death, his betrayal (though of course, Gaius knew of it). And to be ripped from Gaius now, after all these years, how was he to deal with this? Wouldn't it have been easier to have been executed on the way home from his imprisonment? He didn't need to see Gaius one more time.

He couldn't bear this.

  

   "Merlin..." Gaius' voice was soft. "Is that you...?"

  

   Merlin kept his head down, fiercely determined to avoid meeting Gaius' eyes

  

   Because this way he could pretend. He pretended not to hear Gaius say his name, pretended Gwaine wasn't there beside him, holding his shoulder in a tight grasp that made his insides shrivel up and discomfort, fear, course through his veins. He pretended he was still in his cell, the last few weeks hadn't happened.

In his cell, he was miserable, depressed, he wanted to die, but he had learned to shut down his brain, shut down his thoughts, and his feelings. It was the same process, day in and day out. This however, was too new, too different. When he felt a tight grip on his body, the way Gwaine was holding him, it was almost always certain what was coming next, his body about to be used. But now, he didn't know what was going to happen.

  

   Gwaine didn't want to use him like _that_ , he was sure. But his body wasn't sure of that, and he felt his mind shutting down in the way it always did, when someone touched him.

 

   This was too new.

 

   He willed Gaius to disappear, to revert back to the caring old man who didn't recognise him, revert back to the person who had been 5 minutes before.

  

   “Gaius, I need to talk to you,” Gwaine insisted again, his grip on Merlin's shoulder tightening. Merlins insides shriveled to nothing, fear clenching his gut. “Please. There are things... things that happened that you're not aware of.”

 

   Merlin glanced to Gwaine, suddenly very aware of his present situation.

  

   He was in Camelot. He was home. Well... if he could still call Camelot _home._

 

   Gaius was before him.

 

   Everything had _changed_.

 

   And Gwaine was going to tell Gaius _everything_.

 

   He jerked away from Gwaine, shaking his head furiously, his eyes begging. He had been on the road for weeks with this man, who had said very little of importance to him, except to defend Arthur.

 

   If Gwaine had any ounce of friendship, of love for Merlin, he wouldn't tell Gaius, he couldn't.

 

   “Calm down Merlin, calm yourself!” Gwaine insisted, grabbing Merlin again. Merlin jerked away harder this time, almost overbalancing. A wave of dizziness ocvertook him but he persisted, shaking his head, waving his arms.

 

_Don't tell Gaius, you can't, please._

 

   Gaius grabbed Merlin from behind forcefully, trying to stop the antics, “Merlin, what has gotten into you, what's wrong? Tell us what's wrong!”

  

   Merlin turned, frenzied, trying to get away from the strong grip on his arms, darkness and panic closing over him. The tight fingers on his arm, the tall figures standing oer him, and he knew he couldn't fight them off, he knew he couldn't get rid of these men if they turned on him.

 

   They were too strong, they were going to hurt him, he knew it.

 

   Darkness clouded the corners of his vision, creeping inwards quickly as his breathing became laboured. He was too weak, he had become too malnourished. He shoved at Gaius' hands but it was futile, and his movements grew weaker.

 

   Gaius and Gwaine were shouting, trying to get him to stop.

 

   Why wouldn't they leave him alone? Let him be? Why had they taken him here?

 

   Did they need a slave here too? Was that to be his new work here?

 

   Their grips were too tight, pinning him down, trying to force his mouth open.

 

   What were they going to do? They were forcing his mouth open. He didn't want to be used again. Not when he had been freed from his cell. His mouth was meant to be his own again. Not for them...

 

   He turned his head violently, trying to get out of thier grip, but it was useless, finally they forced it open and something was shoved into his mouth. Tears streamed down his cheeked but he quickly realised it wasn't... it wasn't what he had feared.

 

   A potion? Were they trying to poison him? Had Arthur ordered this?

 

   Gaius dropped the bottle with a clatter when he saw Merlin's mouth.

 

   “What... what happened to him?” he gasped in horror, when he say the gaping hole of his mouth, the absence of a tongue, the red, angry stub.

 

   Merlin clamped his mouth shut, and waited, the poison should take effect soon he knew. Only a few minutes.

 

   He felt his consciousness leave him, he was drifting off, his heart rate slowing. He watched Gwaine and Gaius warily, as he slumped into Gwaine's arms, Gwaine laid him gently on a cot, while all the other slaves watched in fascination. He vaguely wondered why they looked so concerned if they had just poisoned him.

 

   He supposed it no longer mattered.

  


  


The room was quiet, he could hear murmuring outside the door. He opened his eyes and realised, he was in his old room. The room from before Arthur had banished him. From before his exile. He stared at the cieling in confusion, was this a dream? How had he gotten here? Someone had changed him into fresh clothing, a red shirt and linen trousers.

The voices grew lounder and he _knew,_ they were right outside the door.

 

   “The potion has lasted far too long, he should have woken _hours_ ago!” Gaius' voice was anxious.

 

   “He's been weak, Gaius,” it was Gwaine. “He's been through so much, you _know_ now what happened to him.”

Merlin shivered. Gaius knew. He knew the shame, what Merlin had been forced to endure. He would be so angry with Merlin, so disgusted with him.

 

   “Gaius, he didn't eat on the journey home. He ate very little. At first I thought it was anxiousness, or he needed time to adjust to the increased portions of food, but it's been weeks, he's been with us for four weeks, and he has barely eaten anything, what... what if he's trying to starve himself?”

 

   “What were you feeding him?” Gaius' voice was cautionary, questioning.

 

   “Normal food, the same as us all, vegetables, meat, when possible stew. He seemed to actually eat the stew.”

 

   “You idiots!” Gaius hissed. “How did you expect him to eat proper food, when he has no tongue, he can barely move food in his mouth, he needs soft foods, more liquid that solid. Did you not stop to think why he preferred the liquid stew?”

 

   “What...?”

 

   “He's _starving,_ Gwaine. He was basically starving to death. No tongue? He couldn't eat the food you gave him. He's probably wearker and more malnourished than when you found him!”

 

   Merlin could hear the anger radiating off Gaius, the disgust. It would be so much worse when he faced him. He knew it.

 

   “And that wound, on his side. The scarring... it suggests extreme infection. It looks as if he's lucky to have survived it. Those... men... _slave_ drivers... Gods, what did they do to him?”

 

   “Gaius... That was Arthur. Arthur did that to him.”

 

   Merlin shut his eyes again, he didn't need to hear this story _again._

 

   “Arthur discovered his magic... left him, banished him. We don't know how long he was with those people, but five years ago... Arthur slashed him with his knife, as a “warning” and left him, banished him from Camelot, with the threat of death if he returned. You'll... you'll need to discuss this with Arthur. I'm... I'm not sure what his plans are now. Now that Merlin is here...”

 

   Gaius was quiet. He seemed to have nothing else to say.

 

   Merlin willed for himself to fall back asleep, to disappear into the bed.

 

   Why wasn't he dead? Had the poison not worked?

 

   Had it not been poison?

 

   He cursed himself for his stupidity. Why would they poison him? That wasn't Arthur's style.

 

   Gaius began to speak again, and he strained his ears to listen. He needed to know what Arthur's plan for him was.

 

   “I'll speak to Arthur. He needs to know the truth, about everything... He can't hold this against Merlin forever... especially now that...” Gaius paused and Merlin heard the shake in his voice. The old man was _crying._

 

   Merlin wanted to die. Was Gaius that _disgusted_ with him he would cy over this? Was he so ashamed and disgusted that he couldn't contain the tears?

 

   “His magic has been blocked. Those collars, Gwaine, they are terrible things. To normal sorcerers, they contain the magic, but to a warlock... Merlin is made of magic, he was born of it, he is not like any other sorcerer. That collar will destroy him slowly, from the inside out. It has spent the last however many years poisoning his mind, his body against him. Pulling out what makes him _him_ and poisoning his very soul. On top of what happened to him...”

 

   This was bad, what were they going to do to him?

 

   He wondered would his execution be painful. Arthur would demand it soon. He wondered if it would be the pyer. But... Arthur had promised to run him through with his sword... So Excalibur then.

 

   Yes, Arthur was bound to use Excalibur.

 

   He hoped it would be quick, painless, maybe while he slept.

 

   Would Gaius give him a potion, to dull his senses?

 

   No, Gaius would probably want him to suffer as much as possible, he knew he deserved it. What happened to him... why had he allowed it to happen?

 

   There was a crash outside. The main door clattering open and another crash of a dish falling and a metal goblet falling to the floor.

 

   “Sire!” Gaius' voice was shocked and Merlin felt his heart clench.

 

   So this was it then.

 

   “The boy.”

 

   His King's voice was cold, so cold. As cold as they day he discovered Merlin was a sorcerer. Colder than it had been over the last... four weeks had Gwaine said?

 

   “Sire,” Gaius was being too polite. How much had changed here?

 

   “Gaius, I demand to see the boy.”

 

   “Sire, he is sleeping. I've sedated him, he was agitated.”

 

   “That's all well and good, Gaius, but he arrived here yesterday evening. All the other patients have been seen to and placed in their respective rooms. However, he remains here, in _your_ chambers. Explain to me why.”

 

   “Sire... I felt it would be more comfortable for him... He has been through a particularly difficult time.”

Arthur laughed then. Harsh and cold. “This is not a competition. He was kept as a slave, like all those other men. His ordeal was no more worse than theirs. They _all_ suffered. He has no reason to be kept here, separate from the others. Perhaps he would be more comfortable with the other men, who know what he has been through.”

 

   “I want him here, by me,” Gaius' voice was firm, “His case is unique, there is a lot more trauma to deal with than just the slavery aspect.”

 

  “Not in my opinion, Gaius,” Arthur said, his voice laden with warnings.0

 

   “Well, Sire, with all due respect, I am the physician here, not you.”

 

   “And with all due respect, _Physician,_ I am your _King_ and this man is a traitor to the state, and he will be dealt with as I see fit.”

 

   Merlin couldn't take this eavesdropping anymore. He struggled to his feet, disentangling himself from the bed sheets and in the process, somehow, with his gangly limbs, knocked over the candle on the bedside table. It tumbled to the ground with a resounding crash and Merlin flinched violently. Footsteps sounded outside and the door flung open, framed there was Arthur.

 

   Merlin faltered under his glower, backing into the wall.

 

  


His King stood there, a halo of light surrounded him, the candles flickering in Gaius' chambers. His King stood there, glaring at him, his arm flung out, holding the door open as he stared down the pathetic sorcerer on the ground. The coward, the scum. Merlin could see these thoughts in his eyes. How his King viewed him.

 

   The filthy slave, the disgusting man, sorcerer, scum, dirt on the sole of a boot.

 

   Why would the King view him any different?

 

   “Can you stand?”

 

   His voice held that withdrawn coldness. His eyes dark as coal, his face closed over. He's eyes flickered over Merlin's cowered form, and a strange emotion passed through them, before closing off again.

 

   Merlin nodded slowly, his gaze flickering to the sword sheated at his King's side.

 

   His King's hand grazed over the hilt and Merlin felt the shudder rip through him, but he struggled to his feet anyway. If he would die today, he would die with his head held high.

 

   As high as filth like him could hold it anyway.

 

   His King nodded, almost approvingly. “Right, well. You can't stay in these chambers much longer. I'll give it three days, out of kindness and respect to Gaius, of course.” He nodded to Gaius. And then turned back to Merlin. Again, his voice grew har and distant, and his hand gripped the sword once more. “I am still to decide your punishment, of course, for your... acts against the state.” He eyed the collar on Merlin's neck. “Sorcery has always been banned in this Kingdom, and your past, treasonous crimes cannot be forgotten so easily.”

 

   “Sire, if I may-”

 

   “No Gaius, you may not,” the King's voice was angry, harsh. “We have a damned sorcerer in our midst, and if you are ousted as a _sympathiser,_ you will also suffer the consequences.”

 

   Gwaine was by his side in an instant, having remained quiet for far too long. “You brought him back to Camelot, you brought him back here. You cannot punish him, because you returned him here.”

   “I will remind you, I currently rule all of Albion, all of this land, every single land is under my jurisdiction. His presence in Mercia was an affront to the conditions of his exile.”

 

   Merlin bristled slightly. Unsure if this was truly fair. He had been _enslaved_. He hadn't had much of a choice.

 

   Gwaine seemed ready to speak up at this too.

 

   “I will return in a few days, to move you to another chamber, and then I will inform you of my.. decision. However, it remains most likely you will be required to leave Albion.”

 

   Coldness settled over Merlin's heart. His sentence wasn't death so.

 

   He wasn't sure if this made him happy or not. He had so desperately longed for the sweet release of death. An escape from everything that had happened over the last five years. An escape from his long gone responsibilities. An escape from the inner torment and inner turmoil his daily assaults had caused him.

 

   An escape from the cursed collar which sucked the magic from his very core, draining him of all meaning.

 

   He desperately wanted this escape.

 

   And to leave Albion... The only place for him to go was the continent, and that journey could be treacherous.

 

   He nervously fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, wondering if he would be left alone soon.

 

   Another thought entered his head. What if his King _desired_ him now? He hadn't made use of him or any of the other slaves in the last few weeks, to his knowledge. Would he require him now?

 

   He tried to banish the thought from his mind. His King wouldn't hurt him in that way, he was sure of it.

 

   No, he wasn't sure.

 

   He hoped.

 

   His King nodded curtly. “Well then, I am done here.”

 

   He left the room abruptly, no more said, and Merlin slid to the floor and exhaled fearfully, and he was unable to stop the tears trickling down his face. He tried to calm his breathing, tried to stop the rasping breaths from ripping through his body, his slight frame shaking angrily.

 

   Gaius was down there in an instant, stroking his back and whispering words.

 

   Merlin shook more, trying to get away from the unexpected and unwelcome touch. He jerked violently, almost striking Gaius with his desperation to get away.

 

   Gaius balked away, as if aware of _why_ Merlin hated this touch.

 

   But... Merlin was wrong for feeling so anxious, and he knew he was. He knew he didn't deserve the sympathy he craved, the love he craved. He was a piece of dirt, of course they could all see it in him.

 

   He held out his hand. “Merlin, may I help you stand up?” His voice was soft and coaxing, and Merlin nodded his head slowly, and reached out to take Gaius' hand. Gaius heaved him up and sat him down on the bed. “Merlin, would you like some food? Something to eat?”

 

   Merlin nodded again, aware of how _empty_ his stomach was. Gaius... Gaius would feed him properly, give him food he could he eat.

 

   Gaius nodded and retreated back to the work room, nodding to Gwaine.

 

   Gwaine stepped into the room, and perched beside Merlin on the bed, keeping a wide berth. As if he was trying to keep as much distance between them as possible. Hr didn't want to too close to someone like Merlin.

 

   No. Merlin stopped himself. That wasn't it. Gwaine wasn't like that. That was in Merlin's head. Gwaine wasn't disgusted with Merlin. He had been Merlin's friend over the last few weeks.

 

   Gaius returned with a bowl, and a dish. “A bowl of beef broth, it will be easy to drink,” he proffered the dish. “And a plate of mashed turnip with some butter!”

 

   Merlin's stomach growled ravenously and he ducked his head in shame while Gwaine laughed good naturedly. “Come on, Merlin, why so embarrassed?”

 

   Merlin, obviously, said nothing and the laughter died away quickly. Gwaine felt the shame radiating off Merlin, but he could not fathom why Merlin was feeling such a way.

 

   Merlin could barely fathom why he felt this way.

 

   Gaius shooed Gwaine from the room, and proceeded to help Merlin to eat. Coaxing the food into his mouth and down his throat when Merlin struggled.

 

   Merlin felt himself growing ill, the buttered turnip was too rich and creamy, the broth too strong and eventually he turned his head away, clamping his mouth shut, in an attempt to communicate his current disinterest in eating. Gaius seemed to understand fairly quickly and disappeared with the dishes, only to return with a goblet of water. He encouraged Merlin to drink.

 

   “So Merlin, I understand we have some difficulty communicating with each other. But let's do our best, shall we?”

 

   Merlin nodded carefully.

 

   “I'll get to the point then. Arthur has given us only three days of privacy, and we have much to discuss.”

 

   Merlin's eyes darkened at Arthur's name but he continued to listen, regardless.

 

   “You've been away for 5 years. Arthur told us this was because the both of you were attacked by bandits, and you were killed in the battle, while protecting him. He claimed to were stabbed, fell off the cliff, and that your body washed away.”

 

   Merlin rolled his eyes, gave a bark he realised was a laugh.

 

   “Is any of that true?”

 

   Merlin nodded his head slightly, holding his thumb and index finder close together, to indicate it was partially true.

 

   “There was a battle?”

 

   Merlin nodded and closed his eyes, willing himself not to remember.

 

   “You... was your magic revealed in this battle?”

 

   Merlin nodded again, curtly, and gritted his teeth together.

 

   “Arthur reacted badly, attacked you, banished you?”

 

   Merlin nodded again.

 

   “And I need to ask you...” Gaius took a deep breath. “How... how long were you kept in Mercia?”

 

   Merlin held up fingers, looking away, not meeting Gaius' eyes.

 

   “Five months?” Gaius asked.

 

   Merlin shook his head.

 

   “Five years?” Gaius was aghast. “Five _years?_ Since you were banished? That#'s how long you were there?”

 

   Merlin nodded, he was unable to explain the situation. He couldn't talk, couldn't explain _how_ he had gotten there.

 

   Not that he wanted to.

 

   Gaius was staring at him with a strange emotion, one that bordered on _pity_. He didn't need pity. He wilted under the gaze, begging it to end.

 

   “Merlin, I will do my best, I will talk to Arthur, make him see sense.”

 

   Merlin shrugged noncommittally.

 

   His King wasn't the Arthur he knew. That Arthur had died when he discovered Merlin's betrayal. That Arthur was gone.

 

   All that was left was the King. His King, who had united all of Albion.

 

   An Albion Merlin no longer had a home in.

 

 


	5. His Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen pays a visit, Merlin finds he cannot trust her, cannot trust his own mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter came out quite longer than expected, and very different! It didn't progress the plot as much as I hoped it to, but sure, I'm still very happy with it, as I feel it gives more insight into Merlin's current state of mind, his relationships with his fellow characters, and even, Arthur's state of mind.  
> I know the characters are rather OOC, buuuuut I'm putting that down to the passage of five years, trauma, and so much change for all of the characters. I'm really enjoying writing this, and I have a fairly fair idea of where it is going, so I'm looking forward to progressing it. But it seems to have a mind of its own too, so we shall see!

The night had been fitful. He kept expecting the King to come bursting through the door, having changed his mind. He expecting the King to come pounding in, demanding Merlin leave Camelot right now, demanding he leave _Albion_ , travel to the coast under guard, board a ship and leave the land completely. He couldn't rest as these images ran through his mind.

   What if the knights or the King decided to take advantage of Merlin's status, his previous _position_? The Noblemen of the surrounding land certainly hadn't been to good to use a sorcerer, what if the Knights and King of Camelot decided Merlin was good enough for them?

   No, Sorcery was reviled in Camelot. No upstanding member of the Camelot court would soil themselves with the use of a magical whore.

   He was safe from that at least.

   He was surprised that thought hadn't occurred to him sooner. He wasn't good enough for these men, why did he fear they'd use him in this way?

   But, nothing would stop the King bursting through this door, demading he leave Albion. He had changed his mind about running Merlin through with his sword, he could change his mind now.

   Three days, and his fate would be sealed.

   He just couldn't sleep.

   He wondered what would happen if he left Camelot that night. He could stand up, and walk out. Leave. He had nothing in Camelot anymore. The King woould never find him. Not in a land so large, would he? Not if he disappeared into the night.

   It would be so easy. He could leave, set up a life somewher else. The King would be glad to be rid of him.

   No.

   He would hunt him down, follow him and then kill him.

   A sorcerer running from his faith?

   King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot, King of Albion, leader who united all the lands together, brought the fighting kingdoms under his own rule, would _never_ allow an ordinary sorcerer, let alone a sorcerer like Merlin, who had infiltrated his court, become his trusted adviser, disappear into the night. He would never allow a person like Merlin run away and let him live.

   The King was far too proud.

   A worthy king of this land.

   No, running away wouldn't do anyone any good.

  

 

The morning sun crept in through a gap in the curtains draped over the window. Merlin squinted, surprised at his dreamless sleep. Unsure of when he slept, how long he slept.

   He sat up, nursing the small headache, and took a small drink of water from the goblet beside his bed. He eyed the door wearily. The King hadn't entered his room in the night, and hadn't banished him to the continent. He was safe for another day at least. Merlin gently slipped out of the bed, and padded softly to the door, placing an ear to it. Soft murmuring permeated the wood, Gaius, discussing him again.

   Gaius, discussing his fate, his _life,_ with another person, another person who now knew of Merlin's disgrace, Merlin's filth and past. Another person who would look at him the way the King looked at him, as if he was the shit of the runt of the litter. Barely worth the effort it took to glance his way. He clenched his fist and stuffed it in his mouth, trying to stop a sob rack throguh his body. Why was he crying? Actual sadness ripped through his heart, and he couldn't understand it. Sadness. Not dispair, or hopelessness, or anger. He was _sad_. He couldn't remember the last time he felt actual sadness.

   Gaius came to the end of his spiel, the end of sharing all the information he could on Merlin's hopeless life.

   And a soft voice responded, a kind voice, which was laced with love, and sadness, with grief. The voice of a woman Merlin once loved. A woman who had once loved Merlin. Before destiny changed things, for they were not destined for one another. And it hadn't hurt at the time. A bittersweet happiness, that she had found her destiny in a King of Love. 

   But... it hurt that she knew what had become of him. She had _loved_ him. He was undeserving of that history. She didn't deserve to live with the knowledge of what he had become. She didn't need to live with the shame of that association.

   "He... he'd have been better off dead," Queen Guinevere of Camelot said. 

   And Merlin bowed his head in anguish, because she was right. He deserved nothing more than death.

   "Why would Arthur have lied to us? Merlin would have been better off dead, dead a hero, instead of what he suffered."

   She was right. But did he deserve the fate of a hero?

   "He... for _five years_? No one deserved that. Merlin was too good for that, too kind. How... how could Arthur have banished him?" And suddenly anger filled the room, filled her voice and she slammed her hand on the table. Merlin flinched as the bang rang through the air, and he stumbled back, suddenly afraid of her anger.

   "Arthur left him, hurt him and look what happened to him. He was tortured, abused, unable to free himself, because of what that glorious bastard did to him. I _grieved_ for Merlin. I _grieved,_ helped Arthur, comforted him, while he apparently _mourned_ for his friend, the _death_ of a dear friend who, in actuallity, he _banished_?" Guinevere was yelling now. Roaring with anger and Merlin shrank into himself. He had _never_ heard her like this.

   What would she do when she saw him? Look at him with disgust?

   "You're Highness, please, calm yourself, you will wake him."

   But the tension permeated the room, it even reached Merlin, huddled on the ground beside the door, curled into himself. The anger in the air, and he felt his panic rising, a new height, a height it had not reached in weeks, months. Since _before_ the King found him. He felt the collar on his neck tighten, warm, grow intensely hot, and he knew it was coming, his magic, turning on him. Attacking him from within. Queen Guinevere would not calm down. She would roar and cry and curse the gods, curse her King of Love, until the skies fell fown on her and her kingsom, and crushed all of Camelot, all of Albion beneath them with the rage of a Queen full of wrath.

   "He ruined many lives that day, Gaius!"

   He had, Merlin had destroyed so many lived. His existence was utterly detrimental to the life of those he had once loved. His old Love was full of rage. Gaius, a man of despair. His King, a man of disgust. 

   Merlin had ruined Camelot and those he loved.

   And the pain tore through him. It ripped through his mind and his body and shredded his soul, and he couldn't stop the scream, the inhuman cries that now filled the room. He curled further into himself as wave after wave of magic tried to force this collar off his neck, as wave after wave of magic tried to destroy the world around him, all of its pain and misery, but only to have it directed inward, that destructive power instead destroying him and his soul and his mind. And the pain was so unreal, it left his mind blank and white and, his body growing rigid as it spasmed with each wave of torment.

   It stopped after a while.

   Merlin didn't know how long it took. But eventually, his magic, trapped so deep inside him, withdrew, as though it realised it would never beat the collar that chained him in such a horrid way, and he became aware.

   But his magic did withdraw, and the pain subsided, and his body relaxed. His breath was shaky, his throat raw. He was still curled on the ground, and he looked up in fear. In the cell, his captors _always_ reacted in horror to this. They had used him harder, as though to punish his weakness.

   Would Gaius punish him too?

   Instead, he was met with the frightened brown eyes of the Queen. She crouched down, and reached out to touch him, and he whimpered and tried to scuttle away. She withdrew her hand and held it to her mouth. "Merlin," she whispered. "Merlin. It's me, it's Gwen."

   He didn't respond, he just eyed her wearily, afraid of what she would say, what she would do to him.

   "Merlin... Can you stand up? Gaius left some food for you to eat. I'm sorry he's not here right now. There is a birth in the lower town he was called to. He had no choice but to go. He... he told me that this... what happened to you, was normal, giving your... current circumstances." She coughed discreetly as she nodded to Merlin's collar.

   His hand flew up to it, fingering the ruins gently as she gazed at him. Her eyes full of an emotion foreign to him.

   "Can... can you stand?"

   Gaius had left him here. With her. Would she call for her King, tell him of this curse on Merlin? It would change things, Merlin knew. There was no way that Albion's king would allow a man like Merlin, so weak willed and destroyed, free. A man who could collapse like this, a man so full of weakness and posion. No, King Pendragon of Camelot would never allow it. No. Albion. He kept forgetting. Arthur Pendragon of Albion.

   Camelot had never been enough for the King.

   Merlin nodded at her question. Yes, of course he could stand. He was not an invalid, incapable of movement.

   But he was, he was an invalid. He could not speak, he could not communicate, he was trapped in his head and could never let a soul know what he thought, how he felt. But, he considered, no one really cared anyway. He spent five years in that prison and no one had come looking for him. No one had cared enough to find him or free him from the life he had been condemned to. He wasn't important enough.

   No. They hadn't known. They had believed him dead.

   Hadn't they?

   Guinevere looked at him, more concerned. "Will... will you stand?"

   He started. Of course. Why ask if he _could_ stand, if she didn't expect it of him?

   He struggled to his feet, wincing, and his previously rigid limbs screamed with stiffness, aching. He limped to the bed, acknowledging the food on the bedside table. A tray containing a bowl of beef broth, and buttered, mashed turnip.

   "Do you require help eating?" Gwen inquired and he bristled in defiance. Of course he didn't require assistance to eat. He took the bowl of broth, downing it quickly, ignoring how it burned his throat, and slightly irritating the ancient scar in his mouth. He grabbed the mashed turnip, the spoon,and shoveled it down his throat. Throwing his head back to encourage its smooth transition down his body.

   Guinevere watched, bewildered, but said nothing.

   He finished rather quickly, ignoring the nausea settling in his stomach. He had eaten too much, too quickly. His medical knowledge was sparse, after so many years away from Gaius' tuition, but he knew it was stupid to strain a stomach unused to so much food, after such a long time.

   He was going to vomit, he knew it. He straightened his back, willing it down. He would not show that weakness in front of the Queen. She would only use it as ammunition with her King while they decided his fate.

   "Merlin, I'm... I'm so, so happy to see you," she whispered suddenly, and he gazed at her in confusion. What? Where was this going?

   "I missed you, I missed you so much. My best friend. I believed you were dead, I believed you were gone. And I had left so much unsaid, not done. How you changed my life with your presence. With your friendship and your kindness. And it was ripped from me, my best friend was taken from me by that blasted witch, Morgana, and I mourned you for months and years."

   Merlin didn't need this. Why was she saying this?

   "You didn't deserve what happened to you."

   No. No. This was a trick, it was a ploy to make him feel safe, for him to trust her. She was married to _him._

   "Merlin. I need you to know I am here for you. I will talk to Arthur, and I will sort this out. I will figure this out. You will be fine."

   Her voice was insistent and demanding. Begging him to trust her. Begging him to believe her filthy lies. She was _his_ wife. He had come to that place, seeking the services they provided. The Wonderful King of Camelot had come to Mercia. He _wanted_ to use the slaves. How dare she pretend things would be normal, be okay. Merlin was trapped, at the mercy of a mad, immoral king.

   No. No. No. He was confused again. He was wrong. _His_ king would never do that. Never hurt a man like that, never hurt a woman or a child, the way he had been hurt.

   Merlin was confused and he was stressed and this damn collar was turning his mind against him. This damn room and these damn memories and this damn _life_ was making his mind weak and tenuous. He needed to escape. He needed to escape his mind and his heart and this deep blackness swallowing him up from within.

   Just because he felt it, didn't make it true.

   "Merlin." She whispered his name again and it was laced with the love and the friendship he had for so long craved after. She reached out her hand and stroked his gently. "Merlin, please. Do you trust me?"

   She could see it, in him, she could sear the fear and the tension rolling off him in waves. He knew she could. He was so weak his every emotion was clear on his face. He had always worn his heart on his sleeve.

   He shook his head. He didn't trust her. He didn't trust her when she was wed to the King. This King had wanted him dead for so long, what was to say she didn't also wish death on him?

   No. No. She had been his friend. Hadn't she?

   He buried his head in his hands. He was so confused. He was so unsure. He needed her gone, he needed this woman gone from his room, he couldn't face her right now. He couldn't face her ever.

   Suddenly, he couldn't hold it back and he was vomiting violently into his hands and onto his lap and Guinevere shrieked, backing away, trying to stop the vile acidic broth from staining her beautiful dress. She was beside him though, a bucket in her hand, stroking his back, as he heaved, cursing his stupidity and his moment of disgusting, undeserved pride.

   He wished she would leave. Why was she allowed to see him like this?

   Gaius was back.

   The bumbling old man had returned. His whistling tune wafting through the rooms.

   She glanced at the door, eyeing Merlin with ever-increasing concern.

   "Merlin, how do you feel?"

   He refused to acknowledge her. She took his arm, trying to make eye contact. "Are you okay, do you want me to get Gaius for you?"

   He turned his head away. A dismissal, a request. Leave him in peace. He did not need her, he did not want her, he needed her gone from his presence. She seemed to understand because she quietly stood and left.

   She spoke to Gaius in hushed tones, but Merlin was a mute, not deaf, and he caught almost every word. Was she going to turn Gaius against him?

   No... No, he was being paranoid again.

   "He's not very... well... is he Gaius?"

   "I don't know what you expected from him, your Highness, he has suffered a great ideal. It is not only his body that was injured, he is not only malnourished. His mind will have suffered too, it will have suffered a great deal. And... well... I guess you know of his magic, as it is, but that blasted collar is poisoning his body and soul. It turns his magic against him, it turns his mind against him." There was a long pause. "How... how long did the fit last for?"

   Merlin shuddered. Gaius knew him too well, knew of his condition too well. The collar was a curse he could never be rid of. Only in death.

   "About half of an hour, but he passed out for quite a while, about an hour or so more, also... he was rather ill. He vomited wuite a lot, soon after his meal."

   Gaius cursed. "He ate too much too fast, I'll have to go see him then."

   He heard Queen Guinevere sigh. "He won't trust me."

   "You're married to the man who banished him, who promised to kill him, and now, brought him back here, only to banish him again. You must admit, Arthur's actions have made very little sense, to a man of Merlin's compromised mental state, it's not exactly... helping. His recovery will be slow."

   "Is there anything we can do?"

   Gaius gave a dark laugh. "Kindness, understanding, patience. Find a way to remove the collar, so we can find a way for him to retrieve his magic. None of which your husband will allow me to do."

   That appeared to be the end of the conversation. Until: "I'll try to speak to him. They were friends once."

   "I don't think Arthur ever viewed Merlin as a friend. He can't have."

   Merlin started. Gaius was right. The King had never been his friend. He can't have been, not... not to do what he did to him. Merlin had dedicated his life to a man who had viewed him as... nothing more than a servant. He had been the greatest sorcerer to ever exist, and he spent his life toiling after a King who never respected him, who never would respect him.

   Queen Guinevere said nothing in response. There was silence, and Gaius began to whistle again, leaving Merlin to assume that she had left.

   He needed a bath. The rancid smell of vomit wafted the air, and it clung to the long strands of dirty hair, his trousers, his shirt. He stank. He sighed. He needed to be clean. He was no good, covered in grime and filth.

   He made his way out of the room, wary, unsure of his welcome. Was he being to presumptive? Letting himself out of his bedroom for a bath? Would Gaius be angry? What would Gaius do if he was angry at Merlin? He remembered the beatings... and the more violent takings of his body, when he angered his captors. No. Gaius wouldn't beat him. Gaius was too kind, too gentle. He was a healer.

   He stepped into the main chamber, and made a slight sound with his throat, trying to draw Gaius' attention. Gaius looked up in alarm, and his nose wrinkled as the smell of vomit reached him. "Merlin!" he gasped, catching sight of the boy. "Merlin, my, what are you doing up and about? You need to rest after this morning!"

   Merlin cocked an eyebrow, indicated to his soiled form, and pointed at the basin which sat in the corner. A bath. He needed to bathe.

   Gaius seemed surprised. "Of course, of course, you have not bathed since you returned to Camelot, I am an old fool. I was so concerned with your health, I forgot to draw you a bath."

   Merlin was unsure. He knew. He knew Gaius had examined his body, when he had been sedated. Gaius would have examined the damaged caused to him from years of abuse, had he not cleaned him then?

   "Well... I mean," Gaius blushed, catching the shamed look in Merlin's eyes. "I did wash parts of you, while you slept. While checking for... damage. But, a proper bath, to welcome you home, I should have drawn one sooner!"

   He was forcing cheerfulness. It was brash, abrasive. Merlin flinched at the falseness of it.

   He waited patiently, while Gaius heated the water, prepared the soap, and filled the bath. It took a long time. Longer than Merlin remembered it taking. Did he really require hot water for this? He was washing himself, not relaxing for an evening of pampering. He was a slave, not a king.

   No. He was not a slave. Not anymore.

   The bath was finally full, and he stripped quickly, and stepped into the basin. Gaius protested. "Merlin! I can... I can leave if you require...?"

   He looked at the old man quizzically. Gaius was averting his eyes from Merlin's naked form and suddenly Merlin realised. He was such a fool. Did he have no shame? Stripping naked in front of poor Gaius like this... He really was no better than a common whore. He dropped himself down into the water quickly, covering himself with his hands, bowing his head, hoping Gaius understood how sorry he was for embarrassing him like that.

   "I... Merlin, would you prefer for me to leave?"

   Merlin nodded vigorously. Gaius left.

   The water was hot, hotter than he remembered. He moved his hands through it, unsure of the last time he sat in a tub of water like this. The evening before his banishment? Two evenings before? He couldn't recall. He picked up the bar of soap, getting a whiff of the herbs Gaius liked to use in the soap he made. He held it to his nose, memories rushing through his head. Mornings of running late, quickly washing his face, worried about his King's anger. Evenings with Gaius, studying magic and medicine while eating hearty meals. Laughter and discussion and things he could never reclaim. Happiness and joy he could never see again.

   He washed himself. Allowing the memories the fill his heard. acknowledging the sadness they caused, the nostalgia. He could pretend. He could pretend that he was back there. That that was his life.

   His eyes closed, he hummed gently to himself, sitting in the warm water, pretending that his King was the Arthur who had been his friend, pretending that Queen Guinevere was Gwen and they joked and laughed together. He pretending that life wasn't and that his body was his own. He pretending that his magic coursed through his veins, causing him no pain, not madness, only joy.

   And he almost believed it, for a short while. The familiar smell of warmth and love overwhelmed him. Happiness had once existed in his life.

   There was a curt cough, and his eyes flew open.

   His King stood there, eyeing him wearily. Assessing him.

   Merlin tried to back way, to be met with the wall of the basin, he jolted hard against it in surprise, and it wobbled with the force, and toppled over, water sloshing across the stone floor, drenching the feet of the King of Albion who shouted in surprise, trying to avoid the wave. Merlin hit the ground hard, hit head smacking into the stone and stars danced before his eyes. He groaned softly, trying to cover himself when Gaius burst into the room.

   "Sire!" he said, and spotting Merlin on the ground, face red with embarrassment, "What happened in here?"

   "I did nothing!" the King stated hurriedly, quick to defend himself. "The clumsy oaf knocked over the bath while he was sat in it. You really shouldn't let him be alone. He's clearly too simple to be trusted alone."

   Shame burned through Merlin when the words washed over him. He struggled to his feet, ignoring the wave of dizziness, the trickle of blood from his temple. Gaius was there with a blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders, covering him from the King's critical eye. "Sire, you are not helping, it is best you let me know in advance of your visits, so I can prepare Merlin." He turned to study Merlin's head, and tutted. "This is not what we need right now."

   "Gaius, as we have already discussed, I am _King,_ I do not need to announce myself to you for the sake of a damn sorcerer."

   Gaius bristled beside Merlin. "Sire, that " _damn sorcerer_ " is my patient, you brought him to me, so I could care for him, to the best of my ability. For me to do that, I need to keep from him getting too distressed, and frankly, your mere presence throws him into such a frenzy, it is best you stop coming at all."

   Merlin couldn't take this. Them talking about him as if he wasn't there, talking about him as if he were simple, incapable of thinking like any other man. He grabbed Gaius' arm, looking at him imploringly. Take him away from here. Take him from this room.

   Gaius ignored him. "Sir, why are you here?"

   "I came to check on the prisoner, to make sure he isn't causing any more trouble."

   "You mean patient," Gaius corrected.

   "What did I say?" He played innocent. "That man has caused enough trouble for Camelot and my reign, I want to make sure he is not tricking you."

   Gaius frowned. "I am safe. He is incapable of causing me much harm. Voiceless, magic bound, what can the boy do? He's malnourished too, you incapable of even feeding him properly on his journey home."

   Anger began to filter through his words. "You, you dragged him half way across Albion, only to torment him further. Why are you here?"

   "Are... are you really talking to me like this?" the King was incredulous, "that man is scum, and you continue to defend him!"

   Merlin covered his ears. He didn't need this, he didn't need this and he could feel the panic rising again. His magic rising.

   "Arthur!" Gaius' voice was firm, angry, as he noticed Merlin's distress. "I beg of you, please!"

   "What, Gaius, what do you beg of me?" the King's voice was full of an anger so deep, so _poisonous_ , and he reached for the sword by his side. He drew it and pointed it at the boy in front of him. "You beg of me to treat this vile creature with respect, this person who's mind is so addled he can barely do anything for himself? He is a simpleton! He is scum! A sorcerer, a traitor! He deserves nothing!" He thrust the sword in Merlin's direction, who's heart rate was growing more was more rapid, his brain hijacked by fear. "Tell me why I shouldn't strike this man down now, where he stands and put and end to the damage he has caused me and my kingdom?" He _roared_ as he stepped towards Merlin, and Merlin couldn't help it, he couldn't stand it. For the first time in so many years he had the opportunity to run from the person threatening him, the opportunity to get away, so he bolted. He bolted in the opposite direction, towards his room, but he stumbled, dizziness taking over him again and he crashed to the floor, groaning again.

   The sword clattered on the stone floor, and the King stared at him, his mouth agape while Gaius ran to his side, his words frantic. "Merlin, Merlin, are you okay?"

   Merlin shook his head, his chest heaving, trying to calm himself. He stared at the sword on the hard ground, focusing on it, reading the runes etched into its hilt and blade. Runes of protection and promise and power over life, the power to take a live with one cut. The sword Merlin created for the King, the Arthur he believed in.

   "Is... what's wrong with him?" the King whispered and there was something new in his voice, a fear Merlin had rarely heard before.

   "Arthur, I am asking you as _my_ _friend_ , nothing more, nothing less, but as a man I care for, to please, please leave, while I deal with Merlin."

   So the King picked up his sword, said nothing more, and left.


	6. To Communicate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A way to communicate begins, Merlin begins to understand the gravity of what he suffered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, these chapters are flying out of me, and I'm delighted! I'm going away soon, and won't have much chance to post, so I'm so so glad to have this surge of inspiration. Please enjoy, and if you like, please leave comments and Kudos, they make my day

"Gaius managed to calm Merlin down, and examine the small wound on his head.

   "Nothing too harmful, my boy!" Gaius cheerfully declared. "Just a little bit of alcohol to sterilize it, a bit of gauze, and you'll be flying!" The forced cheerfulness was too much, but it was better than the confusion of emotions caused by the King's anger.

   Merlin nodded, and Gaius hummed good naturedly, cleaning the small wound, winding a bandage tight around his head, and patted him on the back. There sheer awkwardness of it all was so bizarre. Only minutes before Arthur had been in the room, hysterical, threatening to kill Merlin all over again. And Merlin just couldn't handle the stress of it anymore. He needed to get out of Camelot, out of this Kingdom with its crazy King, and escape from this utter chaos.

   He brushed himself off, the dirt from the ground clinging to his damp skin, blood caking his face.

   "I think another quick wash will do you the world of good," Gaius muttered.

   Merlin sat patiently, the blanket wrapped around him when Gaius prepared the bath once again. His gaze flickered around the room, and he realised it was the first time he had sat at the table, in this chamber, in _years._ And a small smile played on his lips.

   His hand flew to his mouth and he felt the way his lips turned up, the creases in his cheeks, and he couldn't believe it. He was actually smiling. The warmth of this room, the normalcy of Gaius preparing a bath, while Merlin sat waiting, the smell of herbs in the air and he realised he had painfully missed not only Gaius, and his Queen, even his King, but his  _life._ The life in these rooms, with these smells and sights and sounds. The hums of Gaius and the leech tank in the corner, the books in the cases, the potions upon potions lining the walls. He could even remember the order Gaius liked to store them in, where each bottle belonged. An important bit of information he had stored away in his brain, and he had forgotten he knew it. It made his smile grow wider. Happiness bloomed in his chest, coursing through his veins and he knew he was home. he was home, for now, and this momentary peace, with the King gone, just him, and Gaius, in these rooms, and he knew, there and then, in his hearts of hearts, Gaius would never hurt him, never harm him. Gaius was, and always had been, a father to him, and he a son to Gaius, and Gaius, standing over him, protecting him from the King, even when it wasn't safe for himself, he remembered how much he loved the man, and how much that man loved him.

   And the love and warmth and the knowledge he was safe, in this moment, in this instant, nothing would harm him was so overwhelming he couldn't stop the tears. They ran down his cheeks and a sob choked through him, his breath hitching and Gaius dropped the bucket running to his side, his eyes wild with alarm.

   "Merlin, Merlin, what's wrong?" And his hand reached tentatively towards Merlin, afraid of causing him further anxiety, but Merlin just grabbed him, and pulled him into a hug, burying his head into the man's chest, and sobs racked his body.

   It had been so awful, so painful, so utterly _unfair,_ he had longed for so long to return to Gaius, so his family, to these rooms with their smells of love and safety. He had been so terrified, he had cut himself off from _himself_ , refusing to feel a thing, refusing to think, lest his magic betray him and curse his body with further agony, no escape, nothing.

   But now, now he was back with Gaius and he was safe and it was almost as if it never happened. Gaius hadn't seen him there, hadn't seen what they did to him. Gaius was trying so hard to make it normal and it ripped Merlin apart, because it was never going to be normal ever again, not when he had done and seen the things he had, not when he had been treated the way he had.

   But Gaius, loving him so much, was so desperate to make it normal for Merlin, trying so hard to make things okay, so that he didn't suffer within his mind, exactly the way he was, it was so... in a way, stupidly heart warming.

   He had longed for so long to be here, and now he was. And Gaius was trying to prove to Merlin that he was home, that he was safe, and that he no longer had to fear, and he wasn't afraid.

   With Gaius in these rooms with him, with these smells in the air the fear subsided monetarily, making him feel as though... as if he was, in this moment in time, safe from danger.

   He clutched Gaius to him, inhaling the sent of the old man, shaking into his chest, a whirlwind of emotions swirling through him. Love, warmth, safety.

   He ignored the gnawing darkness, clutching at the recesses of his soul. The darkness reminding him he did not  _deserve_ this safety and this love and this warmth, reminding him of what he truly was. He ignored it, wanting to be selfish and feel love for once, because he needed it in this moment and he was so glad to have it in this moment. 

   Gaius hushed him, stroking his head, clearly bewildered by the boy who, moments before, could barely stand touch, and was now clutching at him like a lost child.

   "Merlin, you are okay, aren't you?"

   Merlin nodded into his chest, breath heaving and hiccoughing. His eyes fell on... a quill.

   There was a quill on the desk, beside an inkwell, where Gaius wrote recipes and labels for people's potions and cures.

   He could write.

   He could, couldn't he? Of course he could. He pulled away from Gaius, alarmed that writing had not occurred to him sooner. He had been a clever man, before his banishment. Why hadn't he thought of this yet. Gaius was surprised by Merlin's sudden movements, but followed him with his eyes as Merlin struggled over to the quill and parchment.

   He took it with shaking hands, and, dipping it into the inkwell, holding it over the parchments, he shakily wrote, ' _hello.'_ His script, which had always been rather scribbly, was now atrociously bad, almost illegible. Five years without writing would lead to that.

   Gaius jumped to his feet, clambering over.

   "Of course!" he grinned at Merlin, delighted. "Of course, why hadn't we thought of this? You brilliant, brilliant boy!" He hugged Merlin again, but suddenly, Merlin was uncomfortable, and he shrugged the man off. Not now, no. A shudder passed through him and Gaius seemed to understand. "I get it, not now."

   But Merlin stared at the parchment, cursing himself and his stupidity and why hadn't he realised this earlier, why hadn't this occurred to him sooner? He was an educated man, he could read, he could write, he wasn't stupid.

   But clearly he was if he hadn't thought about this sooner. He threw the quill down in disgust, annoyed with himself, and with Gaius, for not thinking to use this earlier. Gaius didn't notice Merlin's anger, he was too delighted with the idea of finally having found a way to communicate, finally having figured out how Merlin could talk to him.

   "This will be perfect!" Gaius chirped, smiling at his surrogate son, beaming as though nothing terrible could ever happen, as if nothing terrible had ever happened. Merlin frowned, nodding to the bath, indicating _Well, this has been all good, but I want to bathe now._

   He didn't know if Gaius could comprehend the whole message behind that look, but he was smart enough to know Merlin wanted to have a bath. Gaius locked the main door, "To prevent any uninvited guests," he muttered to himself, entered his own room, leaving Merlin to wash, once again, in peace.

   Merlin quickly slipped into his bath, giving himself a quick wipe down, just to remove the layer of dust that had clung to his wet skin from his fall. He kept alert, studying the faded bruises, the last from his captivity. The old cuts and bruises were fading, his skin returning to a pale white that it hadn't been in years, however now littered in white and red scars. His hand felt along his lower back, touching the welted scars there, frowning at the memory of each of those crisscrossing marks. Finally his hand rested over the jagged scar on his side, just above his hipbone. Somehow, this was the one that hurt the most. Even now, after all these years, the memory was the most vivid, and most desperate. The jagged cut, made worse by a deep infection, had left an ugly, raised scar. He grimaced as his fingers traced over it, and he remembered the burning agony of the blade plunging into his gut, the twist, and the removal. His breath hitched as he remembered his fall to the ground, and how he cried out for help, only to be ignored. And then he remembered what came afterwards, the fear, the pain, the infection setting in and he shut his eyes and slowed his breathing, shutting down his mind. He took deep breaths in through his nose, out through his mouth, and clutched the sides of the tub, emptying his mind of all thoughts, of all emotions and finally, he just existed.

   He climbed out of the tub, ignoring the clenching panic in his gut, pushing it down, knowing well enough to not aggravate his magic into an attempt to release the collar. It always got worse when he was emotional. So he controlled his emotions. His magic flickered feebly, begging to be released, to be utilised, calling for attention. A constant flicker in his soul, a constant glimmer of joy that caused him nothing but pain when released.

   He emptied the tub, dried himself off, and gingerly changed into some loose, comfortable clothing, gently touching his bruised ribs, glad to see they had finally set. They had constantly appeared to be broken, when trapped in that cell.

   Now they had actually healed.

   He looked in a mirror placed against the wall. A gift from King Uther to Gaius as one point or another. His bruising was almost completely gone, most of the old cuts had vanished. He hadn't evaluated his injuries since returning, hadn't evaluated how he had recovered. He supposed he must have mostly recovered on the journey home. It had been difficult, being mostly ignored, and treated as though he was a simpleton just because he could not speak, and the lack of adequate nutrition certainly made things harder. But he hadn't been receiving beatings frequently, nor had his body been abused in any way.

   He wrote a note to Gaius. ' _Com_ _e to my room to read. Get me if you need me.'_ He folded it over, placing it prominently on the large oak table, and quietly slipped into his room, holding a book of magic in his hands.

 

* * *

 

 

 

> The men set up camp, Merlin preparing the fire, and laying out the bedrolls, listening to the chatter of the knights and of his King, Arthur. He smiled to himself, humming a gentle tune. The day had been eventful. They had rescued a village from a vile, magical disease. Merlin had secretly used his power to remove a magical toxin from the water, placed by an angry, (and now dead) sorcerer hell bent on revenge against the King, for the beloved daughter he had lost in the Great Purge. Merlin had mourned at the idea of killing the man, but he had refused to see sense, refused to listen when Merlin spoke of Arthur's destiny, the joy he would bring Camelot and Albion.

>    So he had to kill the man.

>    It had been so unpleasant.

>    But here he was, with Arthur and some fellow Knights, ready to return to Camelot in the morning. Gwaine, Leon, Elyan and the other Knights of the Round Table had remained in Camelot to meet some political figures due to arrive. The issue in the village had been an emergency, unprecedented, and Arthur wished to go himself, to deal with the issue in person, to help the people feel hope. But he insisted hi most trusted Knights remain behind to help with the arriving guests. Arthur would only be a day or two behind them.

>    Merlin prepared a tasty dinner, his famous stew. The knights happily ate it and it wasn't long until everyone turned in, an early night, ready for the early morning. Merlin looked up at the stars, counting them, trying to find the constellations Gaius taught him about. He grinned, he'd soon be home to Gaius and Gaius would have a delicious meal prepared. His favourite foods waiting for him. His stomach grumbled in anticipation. His stew was good, but there had not been much left for him, and Gaius' cooking was something else at times. When he tried, anyway.

>    He heard a twig snap.

>    Suddenly they were surrounded.

>    Men and women surrounded them. Hair and clothes wild, screaming curses of magic towards them.

>    The Knights didn't stand a chance. Bodies flew through the air before they managed to wake. Others scrambled for swords and Merlin jumped to his feet, Arthur there in a instant, the two ready to fight.

>    "Merlin, get the fuck out of here," Arthur whispered harshly. "Hide, you'll only be in the way."

>    Merlin ignored him. He could hear the undercurrent of concern for him in Arthur's voice. But he was far more powerful than Arthur realised.

>    "Merlin!" he hissed. "You are no soldier. Get out of here or she'll kill you."

>    He was begging now, as Morgana appeared in a whirl of wind and leaves, standing before them, her arms open wide, her teeth bared in an ugly grin.

>    "Brother!" she called cheerfully. "How wonderful to see you! I've gathered a nice little army, as you can see." She nodded towards the men and women standing among the bodies of the dead Knights. "They had their orders, kill the knights, leave the boy, leave the princling." She nodded to Merlin. "See, I wanted to kill the two of you myself."

>    Arthur widened his stance. "Leave Merlin out of this, he's just a servant."

>    "Is he though?" she questioned. "Seems to cause an awful lot of trouble for someone who is just a servant." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Have you an explanation, Merlin?"

>    He just glared, refusing to rise to her bait, but before he had a chance to say anything, Arthur lunged at her, and she threw her head back roaring with laughter. With a flick of her hand, she swatted him aside, causing him to land heavily on the earth ground. "My oh my, you'll have to do better than that."

>    He had no choice. He was going to need to use his magic. Destroy this threat, and reveal himself.

>    Arthur struggled back to his feet, while the other sorcerers watched with glee.

>    "You took so much from me, Arthur. My kingdom, my life. I am ridiculed for something that should celebrated. Punished for something that should be utlised, used for Camelot. But you condemn me for it!"

>    Arthur gritted his teeth. "You're evil. Once I would have helped you, but you have caused nothing but grief for Camelot, for me and my family. I will not celebrate you. I _despise_ you." He spit at her feet.

>    Before he had a chance to say another word, she lunged at him. He barely dodged before the knife embedded itself in his arm, and he roared in pain.

>    "Enjoy it Arthur. Poison. Feel it course through your veins."

>    He was on his knees. Face contorted in pain.

>    Merlin had to act. He stepped forward.

>    "You're a dead man, Arthur. Look at your poor servant. He can't believe it. He's next, you know, you couldn't even protect _him._ And he had so much faith in you."

>    "Let him go," Arthur wheezed. "He's only a servant. Let him live."

>    "No. I'll make him watch you die, then I'll torture him slowly." She was maniacal with glee, her face split into a wide smile.

>    Merlin raised his hand, "I'm sorry, Morgana, I should have saved you, I should have done better."

>    And he released the spell.

>    She didn't stand a chance. Her body contorted and twisted, her screams rang through the air and she, very slowly at first, and then all at once, crumbled, her body turning to durst, fluttering away in the air, carried far by the wind. The rest of the sorcerers also suffered the same fate, and Merlin fell to his knees exhausted.

>    He looked at Arthur, who was gazing at him surprised etched in his face. Then it turned to disgust. And then it twisted in pain.

>    He crawled to his fallen king, and pressed his hands on the man's arm. Arthur tried to break away from his grasp. "Get off me, sorcerer."

>    Merlin held firm, searching for the poison with his magic, finding it. A magical poison, made to cause a slow, excruciatingly painful death. He wrapped his magic around it, drawing it away from Arthur's heart, drawing it out, and releasing it into the air. Finally, he healed the wound itself. Healing magic was not his strong point, but it was better than nothing. Studying it, he saw it was left with a hideous scar. He sighed and flopped down, lying on the ground, the energy drained from him. He closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath, and felt Arthur stand beside him.

>    He opened them and saw the intensity of Arthur's eyes. The anger.

>    _Uh oh._

>    He quickly stood, arms wide in an offering of peace.

>    "Sorcerer," Arthur said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "You're a sorcerer."

>    "Arthur, I can explain!" Merlin tried to get in. "If you'll list-"

>    "You... you've betrayed me, you're a sorcerer. What was your plan, huh? What was your plan, Merlin, to kill me? Take over my throne when the time was right? What were you going to do to me? Enchant my wife and steal her away? I know what you two were to each other."

>    Merlin flinched. His relationship with Gwen... had been short lived. Now was not the time. "Arthur, please, if you'll let me ex-"

>    "I can't believe this..." Arthur rubbed his face, anger in his eyes, his whole body taut with tension. "I... of all people."

>    And suddenly Arthur was roaring. "I _trusted_ you, Merlin, with my life, with my kingdom, with my _friendship._ And all this time... Why?"

>    But it was clear Arthur did not want an explanation. He stepped forward, drawing the dagger from his belt. "You killed Morgana, an incredible threat to my kingdom and rule, you destroyed her army. Out of... acknowledgment of that... I won't kill you. But, be warned, return to Camelot, and I will strike you down where you stand. If I ever see you again, Merlin, you will die, and I will personally deliver the killing blow." And before Merlin could stop him, Arthur thrust the dagger forward, burying it into his side, above his hipbone. Merlin gasped and his hands went down to the wound, he looked up at Arthur in disbelief, and something like regret flickered across Arthur's face before he pulled the blade out, twisting it slightly. Merlin cried out in pain and Arthur looked stricken, but he quickly schooled his expression to a hardened mask. "Let this be a warning to you, sorcerer. I left you with a non-mortal wound. You will survive this time. Next time, you won't be so lucky."

>    He turned to walk away, as Merlin dropped to his knees. "Arthur!" Merlin gasped out. "Arthur, please, come back, I need you..." Arthur continued on and Merlin tried to struggle to his feet, only to fall back down. He pulled his hands from the gash.

>    So much blood.

>    "Arthur!" He wheezed again but Arthur said nothing. He glanced one more time and his servant.

>    "You disgust me," he spat. He mounted his horse and rode away, before Merlin could call after him again.

>    This wasn't good. He looked at the stab wound. It was so deep. Too deep. He was too drained, too exhausted to attempt healing it. Bodies littered the grass around him, blood dripped down his body. He pressed against it, taking shallow breaths. This was much deeper than Arthur had thought. Merlin knew that. Arthur claimed it was a non mortal wound. But this... this was mortal. This would kill him if he didn't fix it _soon._ He whispered a spell, and felt the magic leave his hands and attempt to stitch the wound together.

>    The internal injuries screamed with pain and his magic failed him.

>    He couldn't do this. He was going to die here, surrounded by the bodies of fallen nights, stabbed by the man he had just saved.

>    His heart quickened and fear hijacked his brain. He heard people whispering. Footsteps.

>    Had Arthur come back for him.

>    No.

>    He was lying on his back now, and Arthur would be long gone. Minutes, perhaps half of an hour had passed, Arthur was gone.

>    He was too weak.

>    A figure stood above him. "Looks like we've got a pretty boy!" it said cheerfully.

>    "Help..." Merlin whispered.

>    "But he's injured, look at that wound."

>    Another person was there.

>    "We can stitch him up, he'll be fine."

>    They were going to help him.

>    "He'll make a good 'un. Get us in a lot of customers with his skinny frame. Very pretty, he'll be popular."

>    No.

>    No. No. No. No. No. Slaved drivers. In Camelot? No.

>    They wanted him.

>    He feebly raised his hand to fend them off, muttering a spell. The first man stumbled backwards, surprised. "A sorcerer. Even better. Get the collars. There should be a spare."

>    No.

>    A collar was clasped around his neck and he felt his magic rebel against it and he was screaming in agony, his body thrashing. They pinned him down, laughing. "Well, that's what happens when you fight it."

 

* * *

 

His eyes opened and he gasped. No.

   A dream.

   Well, a memory.

   He had fallen asleep while reading.

   The phantom pain of the years old stab wound disappeared and he stretched, climbing out of the bed. Looking out the window, he saw the moon high in the sky. Darkness lay like a thick blanket, suffocating him.

   Soft voices whispered outside his room. Happiness laced in each word.

   "He sleeps now, he's only been back about two days, Gwaine, but he's managed to communicate. We've decided to go with writing, though I've been looking into a communication method which requires the use of hands. Movements to spell words and indicate ideas. It will take time to learn, but it's effective."

   Gwaine responded. "That's wonderful, Gaius, I'm so sorry I haven't been back earlier, Arthur has been working us to the bone since we got back. It's almost as if he wants us too tired to do anything else but sleep and train."

   "You're here now, that's all that matters. My boy... I still can't believe he's alive. I can't believe it."

   "But Arthur... what he did..."

   "Gwaine," Gaius cut it, "That's not important. _We_ can't dwell on it. Merlin suffers enough for those actions, from all those years ago. We can't change it. All we can do is convince Arthur that Merlin needs to stay here in Camelot, in my chambers."

   "I..."

   "Can you do that Gwaine, can you get him to change his mind?"

   "Gaius, everyone knows I came here because of Merlin. Everyone knows I joined the Knights, because of my loyalty to Merlin. When I believed Merlin dead... I almost left. I had no loyalty to the King, or to Camelot. But... I believed he died protecting this kingdom, and its king, and that's what made me stay, to protect the man Merlin died for."

   there was a long pause. "But Merlin didn't die for him. Arthur banished him, injured him, dreadfully. He banished the man and somehow Merlin ended up as a sex slave in a brothel, hidden away in the darkest dregs of Mercia. We found him, Gaius, chained up, malnourished, pitifully frightened of me, of Arthur. Gaius, he was _petrified_ of Arthur, and... Arthur let this happen to him."

   Merlin took a deep breath. He really had to stop listening to the conversations outside his door.

   "I know Gwaine, but Merlin needs a friend, he needs you. He is just upset my Gwen, probably her closeness to Arthur frightens him, and Arthur has been terrible to him. He needs you, and what he needs from you most is to convince Arthur to allow him to stay with me." Gaius was insistent, he wasn't going to let this go.

   "I'll do my best."

   Merlin had enough. He threw open his bedroom door with a bang and hobbled out. His limbs were stiff again and his stomach growled with hunger. He saw a pot of stew simmering on the hearth and his mouth watered. He was so hungry.

   He saw Gaius and Gwaine watching him, alarmed by his sudden entrance. He gave them a curt nod, and grabbed the quill and parchment sitting on the table. They looked at him expectantly. _'I can hear all of your conversations from my room,'_ he scribbled down. _'I can hear everything._'

   He showed it to them and both hung their heads sheepishly. he began to write again. ' _I'm hungry. Can i eat? I fell asleep and missed supper._ '

   Gaius hurriedly prepared a bowl of broth and his usual fare of mashed turnips with some butter. He guessed this was to be his dinner for the rest of his life. He ate it slowly, taking his time, not wanting a repeat of that mornings illness. Gwaine watched, and Merlin could feel the pity wafting off the man. He bristled with annoyance, but Gwaine just sat beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Merlin shook it off, not in the mood for any physical contact. Gwaine didn't try to put his hand back.

   "I'll try to help you, Merlin. If you want me to. I will convince Arthur to let you stay... i want to kill him, rip him limb from limb and put his head on a spike. But I won't. I'll be political, schmoozing. We got very close in the last few years... Well. He trusts me more now. He... respects my advice. I'll... convince him, Merlin. I'll do what I have to do."

   Merlin barely acknowledged. Just continued to eat, while listening to Gwaine.

   "You were my best friend, and... I'm sorry. I'm sorry we didn't know and couldn't save you. We'll do better. I'll make it up to you."

   They didn't understand. Why didn't they understand? He didn't want their pity or they're help. He didn't _deserve_ any of it. His eyes fell on the bottles of ingredients and he knew all of them. Each and everyone.

   An idea forming in his mind.

   He didn't need they're help, he couldn't accept their help, because he was no longer Merlin, he was no longer anything important. His magic was gone, his purpose was gone, he had nothing of his own. He had no home of his own, no magic, and his body was no longer his own. He'd had nothing of his own for five years. And his destiny had never been his own.

   He didn't want them.

   He felt the wave of anger and hatred swirl again. Almost all of it directed towards the King.

   He couldn't do this anymore.

   He had longed for death, in that cell. Begged for it almost everyday. And fate had been cruel and denied him it. Now he was here in this hellhole, fear in his heart of the King, his anxiety and paranoia driving him to despair.

   He had only been in Camelot a few days, most of it spent sleeping, but he couldn't bare it. He couldn't bare this anymore, whatsoever.

   He pushed the food away, his earlier feelings of joy, feelings of happiness of being home, forgotten.

   Because he wasn't home. His position here was precarious, he was going to be banished in such a short time. He had no home, he belonged no where.

   He stumbled from the table, ignoring the words of friendship from Gwaine, the startled cries of Gwaine and Gaius as he locked himself away in his room, pressing his back against the door to prevent them entering.

   His King would destroy him again and again. It's all he wanted. Pendragon wanted Merlin left with nothing. That great, kind, wonderful King who United all of Albion and ruled kindly, fairly, would make sure Merlin was left with nothing.

   He had done it once, he would do it again.

 

 


	7. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's inner thoughts, He comes to a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the very long break! There was a wedding abroad, start of classes and a bout of depression so... motivation flew out the window! I'm back in track, and procrastinating as usual so enjoy! This chapter is a bit of a... not happy one. So headsup for triggers involving suicide and such.  
>  Also a terribly short chapter. Awfully short, and for that, I am sorry!

Merlin stayed hidden in his room all night, ignoring the words spoken through the door by Gwaine and Gaius, begging him to come out and listen to them. Eventually they gave up, and spoke to each other in their hushed voices.

   Their voices were more hushed, now that they were aware of the fact Merlin could hear them through the door, and they had become inaudible. But it was clear they were angry. Fighting over something. Merlin shut it out, aware Arthur would be dropping by soon, any day, to discuss his fate.

   Fear swirled through his mind, Arthur would require he leave Albion, soon. He still had trouble walking, moving, he was still weak, he had no way of communicating, except through writing, a journey out of Albion, and to the continent would destroy him. It would most likely kill him. He ground his teeth together in frustration.

   Anger, frustration...

   Gwaine and Gaius wanted him to forgive his King.

   Why? Could they not _understand_ what was happening? Could they not understand what the King had done to him? Stabbing him... leaving him for dead. Arthur. His friend, his King, the man, took away everything. Stabbing him mortally, claiming it to be just a superficial wound... leaving him to die, leaving him to scum to healed him and dragged him away to work as a slave...

   Arthur had left him.

   Left him behind for five years, left him to suffer, betrayed him completely.

   And then he picks him up, drags him half away across the land, and he didn't even have the decency to _execute_ Merlin.

   No.

   Why was this happening?

   Why had his King harmed him like this?

   Deny him the right to die. Arthur was nothing but a hypocrite. He raged against magic, condemned him to exile, to suffering, to pain, belittled him, humiliated him, but still refused to follow his own laws.

   Merlin couldn't stand this anymore.

   There was no point. The anger and the rage and all of it tore through him, and he fought hard to fight it back down. Now was not the time to allow himself to feel.

   Years of bottling it up, of fighting it down. He was good at it, but it was getting hard. But tonight, he had to last without the emotions triggering another fit.

   But... a day of sleeping led to a sleepless night. And a sleepless night was perfect for planning.

   He was not going to let Arthur banish him, Arthur was not going to exile him. Merlin wouldn't give him the fucking satisfaction.

   No. He had longed so long for this sweet release, Arthur wasn't going to man up and follow his own laws, he would take matters into his own hands. He was not going to spend the rest of his life running or hiding or living like this. He couldn't do it again, anymore. He couldn't live like this.

   No. He needed to escape all of this.

   Gaius would never let him leave, Arthur would never let him stay.

   He was going to tear apart their relationship by being alive.

   He was going to tear himself apart trying to stay sane.

   The continuous shame and anger and resentment always threatened to overwhelm the collar on his neck and cause him agonising pain.

   This would be easier.

 


End file.
